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The  Crook  Straightened. 


By  MRS.  MARTHA  E.  BERRY, 

AUTHOR  OF  "CROOKED  AND   STRAIGHT,"  "CELESTA,"  ETC. 


oJ«o 


BOSTON : 
WILLIAM   V.    SPENCER. 

1868. 


Entered,  accor^ng  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

WILLIAM  V.   8PENCEB, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


EocsmJLi  ft  Rotxiws.  Peiktrbs  aitd  Stbreottpebs, 
122  Wiishiuglou  Slroct,  Boston. 


PEEFACE. 


This  second  volume  of  Jotham's  history,  which  is 
founded  in  truth,  is  now  oflfered  to  the  public,  with 
the  hope  that  those  boys  who  get  the  wild  fancy 
that  some  other  place  is  better  than  home,  may 
pause  and  think  before  they  leave  a  mother's  tender 
care,  or  a  father's  judicious  corrections.  Better  is 
home  discipline  than  a  stranger's. 


(Ill) 


CELESTA  STORIES. 

I.  — CELESTA. 

II.  — CROOKED  AND  STRAIGHT, 
in.— THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 


riv> 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAOit 

Before  Midnight g 

CHAPTER  II. 
TiiK  Gloomy  Day .        28 

CHAPTER  III. 
FlNDINQ  A  HOMB 47 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Thanksgiving  ....  - 66 

CHAPTER  V. 
First  Trial  at  Work 85 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Churning  and  Pumping       ,       .      .       .       .      .      .104 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  New  Clothes 123 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Jotham's  Thanksgiving 143 

(V) 


n  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEB  IX. 
Choppiso  asd  its  Effects ,      ,      168 

CHAPTEB  X. 
Lights  and  Shadows 1^1 

CHAPTEB  XI. 
Hope  Lost 201 

CHAPTEB  Xn. 
Ellen  Jordan 221 

CHAPTEB  Xni. 
Sudden  Departure .242 

CHAPTEB  XIV. 
Home 262 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 


The     Crook     Straightened. 


CHAPTER   I. 

BEFOBE     MIDNIGHT. 

JERY  cold  and  cheerless  it  seemed  on  that 
country  road.  The  evening  was  frosty ;  there 
were  no  singing-birds  enlivening  the  twilight, 
no  hum  of  insects  lulling  the  ear.  The  songsters  had 
gone  to  their  southern  homes,  the  crickets  and  the 
locusts  had  been  chilled  by  the  autumnal  blasts,  and 
there  was  silence  in  nature's  laboratory. 

To  Jotham  this  silence  was  terribly  oppressive. 
Not  a  sound  greeted  his  ear  save  the  occasional  merry 
voices  of  children  as  he  passed  a  house  where  was  a 
happy  circle;  and  these  notes  fell  painfully  upon  his 
ear,  for  they  reminded  him  that  he  was  now  homeless. 
He  remembered  how  often  he  and  Harry  had  made 
their  home  vocal  with  laughter,  and  then  he  thought 
sadly  that  for  him  there  was  a  home  no  more.  He  was 
a  runaway. 

9 


10  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

He  was  now  six  miles  from  the  city,  half  way  be- 
tween two  villages,  and  the  large  barns  surrounded  by 
broad  fields  told  him  that  he  was  in  a  region  of  farm- 
ers. Comforts  appeared  plentiful  in  the  houses  he 
passed ;  but  for  him  there  were  none.  Supperless  he 
walked  on ;  for  what  else  could  he  do  ?  It  was  too  cold 
to  stand  still,  or  to  sit  down  to  rest.  The  wind 
pierced  through  his  jacket;  he  shivered,  and  hunger 
grew  imperious.  The  absence  of  street-lights,  to 
which  he  had  always  been  accustomed,  added  to  the 
gloom. 

The  boy's  knowledge  of  country-life  had  been  de- 
rived principally  from  his  visits  at  his  grandfather's 
farm,  and  as  these  had  been  always  in  the  summer,  lie 
had  no  idea  that  a  rural  road  could  seem  so  dreary  and 
desolate.  The  trees,  stripped  of  their  verdure,  were 
far  less  inviting  than  when  their  rustling  leaves  en- 
ticed travellers  to  their  shades  on  a  warm  day;  and 
the  grass,  embrowned  by  frosts,  seemed  to  have  lost 
its  velvety  softness.  Few  carriages  were  passing,  and 
these,  in  the  absence  of  street-lamps,  seemed  groping 
their  way  in  darkness. 

Two  or  three  times  Jotham  paused. 

"I've  half  a  mind  to  go  home,"  he  mused.  "What 
If  father  should  scold  ?    I  don't  believe  he  would  give 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  11 

me  any  other  punishment,  and  I  can  bear  the  scolding, 
I  ought  to  bear  it,  for  I  deserved  it.  I  did  wrong. 
Yes,  I  was  mean  to  go  stealing  an  old  lady's  apples. 
No  wonder  father  was  angry.  I'll  go  home,  for  I'm 
dreadfliUy  hungry.  I  have  had  nothing  but  an  apple 
since  breakfast,  and  now  it  is  past  supper-time.  I've 
nowhere  to  go,  nowhere  to  sleep  to-night.  I  don't 
want  to  beg,  and  I've  no  money." 

Putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he  shook  the  few 
coppers  he  happened  to  have;  but  there  were  not 
enough  to  even  buy  him  a  supper,  and  if  there  were, 
where  would  he  buy  it?  There  were  no  refreshment 
rooms  on  that  quiet  road ;  he  must  go  to  some  private 
house,  and  delicacy  forbade  that ;  it  seemed  like  beg- 
ging- 

Every  moment  the  unhappy  boy  grew  more  unde- 
cided. Should  he  go  home,  or  should  he  not?  Finally, 
as  the  darkness  deepened,  and  he  grew  yet  more 
hungry,  he  stopped  in  earnest  thought,  then  resolutely 
turned  his  face  homeward.  It  seemed  as  though 
Annette  was  beckoning  him.  He  could  hear  her  voice 
calling,  "  Jotham,  Jotham,  come  home." 

He  remembered  how  she  followed  him  the  evening 
previous,  how  she  sat  on  the  stone  by  the  roadside  and 
pleaded  with  him.    Then  he  thought  of  her  headache 


12  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

this  morning,  caused,  undoubtedly  by  her  exposure 
and  anxiety. 

"And  now,"  lie  said  to  himself,  "I  have  run  away 
from  her  again.  She  cannot  follow  me ;  she  does  not 
know  where  I  am.  Perhaps  she  is  weeping  for  me, 
for  she  always  seems  to  love  me.  I'll  go  home.  Yes, 
I  wiU." 

Under  the  strength  of  this  resolution,  he  rapidly 
retraced  the  road  he  had  come.  Now  that  he  had 
decided,  he  seemed  in  haste  to  return  and  know  the 
worst.  His  steps  were  almost  a  run;  but  at  length 
nature  grew  weary,  and  he  walked  with  less  speed. 
Even  the  thoughts  of  his  mother's  pantry  and  table 
failed  to  hurry  him.  He  was  thoroughly  tired ;  and,  as 
he  walked  more  slowly,  he  mused  again,  — 

**  For  what  am  I  going  home  ?  To  get  something  to 
eat.  Perhaps  I  cannot  get  it.  Perhaps  I  cannot  be 
allowed  to  stay  at  home ;  father  said  that  if  I  stepped 
once  more  from  the  path  of  rectitude  he  should  be 
done  with  me  forever ;  and  of  course  he  will  call  this  a 
crime,  for  didn't  I  come  away  this  morning  when  he 
told  me  to  go  to  school  ?  Haven't  I  stayed  away  all  day  ? 
Oh,  yes,  he  will  say  this  is  as  bad  as  stealing  apples  I 
He  will  not  let  me  stay  at  home.  He  said  such  a  boy 
as  I  ought  to  work;   that  I  ought  to  earn  my  own 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  13 

bread ;  and  I  said,  '  Very  well,  I  can,  sir.'  Now  here 
am  I,  going  home  because  I  am  hungry.  That  doesn't 
look  like  earning  my  bread.  But  what  can  I  do?  The 
captain  wouldn't  take  me ;  and  if  some  other  captain 
would  take  me,  I  don't  really  want  to  go  to  sea.  It 
must  be  very  hard  to  live  and  work  as  the  sailors  do, 
tossing  all  the  time  on  those  terrible  waves ;  especially 
when  it  is  cold  like  to-night.  No,  I  don't  want  to  go 
to  sea.  I  can't  stay  and  work  in  the  city,  for  father 
will  find  me  out,  and  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

As  he  walked  along,  the  cry  of  a  child  arrested  his 
steps,  and  then  he  heard  the  harsh  voice  of  a  man, 
saying,  "  Go  into  the  house,  child !  There,  take  that 
for  your  ugliness !  " 

The  man  and  the  child  were  in  a  shed  near  the  road, 
and  Jotham  distinctly  heard  the  rude  blow  upon  the 
ear  as  the  child  went  screaming  into  the  house. 

"That's  an  ugly  father,"  thought  Jotham.  "My 
father  is  just  so.  All  fathers  are  ugly.  If  I  go  home 
I'll  be  treated  just  so.  I  won't  go  home.  I  won't 
stand  such  treatment.  I  never'll  go  home.  Father 
would  be  just  so  cross  to  me,  and  Annette  couldn't 
stop  him.  He  said  he  would  never  listen  to  her  again. 
No,  I  cannot  go  home.    I  have  no  home  now.    My 


14  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

father's  home  is  not  my  home.  He  said  he  had  done 
with  me  forever." 

Once  more  the  wanderer  turned,  and  over  the  cold 
road  he  ran  again.  On  into  the  country  he  went, 
neither  heeding  nor  caring  whither.  His  heart  had 
grown  bitter  and  decided.  Whether  he  kept  a  straight 
course,  or  whether  he  turned,  he  linew  not  nor  cared. 
Eeally  he  l^ad  wound  away  from  the  main  road,  and 
was  in  the  midst  of  a  rural  population.  Somewhere 
from  a  distant  steeple,  as  he  quietly  pursued  his  deter- 
mined way,  he  heard  the  ringing  of  the  evening  bell, 
and  it  recalled  him  to  his  situation. 

"  It  is  nine  o'clock,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and  here  I 
am,  so  tired  I  can  hardly  step.  My  feet  ache  so  I 
think  they'll  come  through  my  boots.  I  wish  I  had  a 
good  bed.    I  must  sleep  somewhere." 

A  shadow  loomed  up  in  the  distance  before  him,  and, 
as  he  approached  it,  he  perceived  it  to  be  a  barn.  It 
stood  alone,  at  some  way  from  ttie  house  to  which  it 
evidently  belonged,  and  as  the  wearied  boy  drew  near, 
two  men  left  the  barn  with  a  lighted  lantern.  The 
heavy  door  swung  together  after  them,  and  Jotham 
observed  that  they  did  not  lock  it.  lie  drew  back  a 
little,  lest  he  should  be  observed,  and  paused,  while 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  15 

the  men  went  to  the  house.  When  all  was  still  again, 
he  cautiously  approached  the  barn-door. 

"  If  I  could  only  get  in  here,"  he  thought,  half- 
frightened  at  his  own  temerity,  "  perhaps  I  could  find 
a  place  to  sleep.  I  wouldn't  do  any  harm.  I'd  get  up 
early,  and  go  off  before  anybody  comes." 

Timidly  he  placed  his  hand  upon  the  large  iron 
latch,  and,  as  he  raised  it,  it  clicked  with  a  heavy 
sound.  Prightened,  he  paused,  but  as  no  one  came, 
he  ventured  to  raise  the  latch  once  more  with  greater 
caution. 

"It  selms  like  being  a  house-breaker,"  he  said  to 
himself;  "  but  I  can't  help  it.  I  must  sleep  somewhere, 
and  I  won't  do  a  bit  of  harm." 

Opening  the  door  just  wide  enough  to  admit  his 
body,  he  crawled  silently  through,  and  closed  it  again. 
How  his  heart  beat !  He  could  feel  it,  almost  hear  it, 
bounding!  "With  a  strong  effort  at  calmness,  he 
stepped  softly  one  side,  and  hit  against  a  barrel.  His 
hand  involuntarily  extended  as  a  balance,  and  came 
down  upon  some  large,  fair  apples.  Yes,  they  were 
apples.  He  could  feel  the  stems,  the  smooth  skins, 
the  blossomed  ends,  and  he  was  so  hungry!  How 
good  an  apple  would  taste !  \ 

Almost  unconsciously  he  raised  one  to  his  lips,  and 


16  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

his  teeth  were  in  it.  It  was  sweet  and  delicious,  but 
—  a  sudden  thought  struck  him,  a  pang  of  remorse. 
The  apple  was  not  his.  He  had  stolen  it,  and  it  Avas 
bitten  I 

"What  can  I  do?"  he  asked  himself,  in  anguish. 
"Everything  I  "do  is  wrong.  I  must  be  a  terribly 
wicked  boy.  Oh,  dear !  —  But  —  I  have  it !  Yes,  I 
know  what  I'll  do.  I'll  eat  the  apple,  and  before  I  go 
out  in  the  morning  I'll  leave  a  cent  where  the  men 
can  find  it.    That  will  be  fair." 

Scarcely  had  he  uttered  this  resolution,  ere  a  light 
flashed  through  the  key-hole  of  the  door,  the  iron 
latch  clicked,  and  men's  boots  were  shuffling  on  the 
frozen  ground  outside. 

Jotham  was  paralyzed.  His  heart,  which  had  been 
leaping  at  a  "double-quick,"  suddenly  paused.  The 
apple  in  his  hand  was  clenched  with  twofold  force, 
and  the  mouthful  between  his  teeth  seemed  fastened  as 
in  a  vice,  while  his  terrified  eyes  fixed  themselves  upon 
the  key-hole  through  which  the  light  was  streaming. 

Suddenly  the  key-hole  was  darkened,  something  was 
thrust  into  it,  then  there  was  the  turning  of  a  lock, 
then  the  key  was  removed,  the  light  fiashed  through 
again,  and  the  motionless  boy  realized  that  he  was 
locked  in. 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  17 

For  several  minutes  after  the  departure  of  the  man 
he  remained  like  a  statue.  He  could  scarcely  realize 
that  he  had  escaped !  He  could  hardly  believe  that  he 
•was  alone  again,  uncaught !  In  that  brief  moment  he 
had  seen  before  his  imagination  himself  a  prisoner, 
handcuffed  as  a  thief,  and  he  had  realized  the  horrors 
of  a  trial,  and  a  prison  at  the  end. 

Now,  as  the  sound  of  the  footsteps  died  away,  and 
he  was  once  more  alone,  his  heart  gave  a  new  re- 
bound, his  jaws  relaxed,  and  the  apple  resting  between 
his  teeth  felt  their  power.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
run.  He  would  escape  from  a  position  of  so  much 
danger.  But  how?  The  door  was  locked.  There 
might  be  other  doors,  but,  in  groping  after  them,  he 
might  fall  into  trouble.  Added  to  all,  he  heard  a 
heavy  bark  outside.  A  dog  was  probably  there  to 
guard  the  premises. 

"  Bow-wow,"  with  a  coarse  voice  went  the  mastiff, 
just  before  the  barn-door,  and  again  Jotham  thrilled. 
Why  should  the  dog  stand  there,  barking? 

"  He  has  found  out  I  am  here,"  said  the  terrified 
boy.  "Dogs  alwaj's  do  find  out  people.  Oh,  dear! 
I'm  afraid  the  man  will  come  back  again." 

But  the  man  having  just  come  from  the  barn,  and 


18  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

believiug  everything  safe  there,  couldn't  comprehend 
the  barking  of  the  dog. 

"  Here,  here,  sir,"  he  called,  looking  back  at  him  by 
the  light  of  the  lantern.  "  Come  here !  There,  uo 
noise !  That's  a  good  fellow.  Save  your  barking  till 
there's  need  of  it." 

Very  unwillingly  the  animal  obeyed,  looking  back 
suspiciously ;  but  the  master  soothed  and  petted  him, 
till,  finally,  he  grew  reconciled,  and  walked  content- 
edly away.  All  this  Jotham  heard  as  his  quickened 
ears  listened  attentively,  and  presently  he  compre- 
hended that  now  he  was  truly  left  alone.  The  dog  and 
his  master  were  gone,  and  he  whom  they  would  have 
locked  out  was  safely  locked  in. 

The  stamp  of  a  horse,  the  nibbling  of  hay,  and  the 
low  breathing  of  cows  told  the  prisoner  who  were  to 
be  his  room-mates.  They  were  new  companions,  but 
they  could  neither  betray  nor  punish  him,  and,  with 
that  reflection  for  a  solace,  he  stealthily  crept  along, 
feeling  his  way  by  the  guidance  of  the  hay  scaffolds, 
and  peering  through  the  barn-floor  dimly  discernible 
by  his  eyes  now  used  to  the  darkness.  Half  way 
through  the  barn  was  a  bay  from  which  the  hay  had 
Ijccii  partially  taken,  and  into  this  he  climbed  by 
mounting  a  low  railing.     Thence,  groping,  he  crawled 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  19 

up  a  short  ladder,  placed  against  a  high  scaffold,  and 
passing  up  this,  was  soon  safely  lodged  beneath  the 
eaves,  rolled  over  behind  the  hay,  and  half  buried 
under  it. 

He  grew  warm,  and  his  bed  was  soft,  but  it  seeraed 
unnatural,  and  he  could  not  sleep.  All  around  was 
quiet,  but  within  him  was  a  tumult.  The  agony  of 
affright  through  which  he  had  just  passed  had  wholly 
changed  him.  Before  that,  he  had  felt  like  a  very 
independent  boy  running  away  from  an  unjust  father; 
now  he  seemed  like  a  criminal,  trespassing  upon 
another's  man's  property,  guilty  of  stealing,  and  of 
lodging  upon  his  premises  without  leave;  indeed,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  was  guilty  of  every  offence,  so 
mean  he  had  become  in  his  own  eyes. 

As  he  lay  on  his  hay-bed  he  thought  of  Harry, 
wondered  whether  he  was  quietly  sleeping,  or  whether 
they  were  all  anxious  about  him,  so  that  they  could 
not  sleep  in  his  own  home. 

"I  reckon  father's  angry  enough  by  this  time,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "He'd  storm  if  I  should  go  home 
now.  No,  I'll  not  go  home.  Not  I.  I  told  fixther  I 
could  work,  and  I  can.  I'll  go  to  work  on  a  farm. 
I've  seen  farm-work  done  at  grandfather's.  I  could  do 
auythiug.      But    I   do  wish  I   had   never  gone   with 


20  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

George ;  then  I  should  not  have  displeased  father.  No, 
I  don't  wish  so,  either.  George  is  a  good  fellow. 
Father  is  cross." 

Thus  distracted  by  conflicting  emotions,  he  lay  till 
nearly  midnight,  revolving  plans  at  one  moment 
which  were  to  be  rejected  the  next.  Finally,  tired 
nature  could  endure  no  longer,  and  he  sunk  into 
a  heavy  sleep. 

Far  away  from  him,  on  that  same  night,  there  were 
other  sleepless  eyes.  In  his  own  home  a  mother  was 
weeping,  a  father  was  threatening,  a  brother  wonder- 
ing, and  a  sister,  unconscious,  lay  moaning  and 
tossing  on  her  fevered  bed.  But  still  further  away, 
in  a  distant  country  town,  an  aged  couple  sat  talking. 
Many  years  they  had  happily  trodden  the  vale  of  life, 
pleased  with  each  other  and  with  the  world  around 
them.  Much  good  tbey  had  done  in  their  little  sphere, 
and  now  they  wished  to  add  one  more  happiness  to 
the  circle  they  loved. 

*'  I'm  so  glad  you've  thought  of  it,"  said  Grand- 
mother "Wilson.  "  You  are  always  thinking  something 
good,  though  you  are  so  afraid  somebody  will  know 
it." 

"  Poh !  "  rejoined  grandfather,"  this  is  nothing  very 
good.     It  is  just  for  ray  own  gratification." 


THE    CnOOK  STRAIGHTENED.  21 

"  But  it  is  good,"  replied  grandmother,  "  and  it  will 
make  us  all  happy.  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  happy  in 
going.  Jotham  and  Annette  will  be  delighted  to  see 
us,  and  I  am  sure  Josiah  will  give  us  a  cordial  wel- 
come to  his  Thanksgiving  table,  especially  if  we 
provide  our  own  dinner." 

"Well,  I've  been  thinking,"  replied  grandfather, 
"  that  'twould  be  too  lonesome  to  stay  here  all  day, 
and  only  you  and  I  trying  to  eat  a  turkey  with  Jones 
and  Smith.  They  can  stay  and  eat  with  Sally  Ann, 
while  you  and  I  go  to  our  son's.  Maybe  we  shan't 
take  many  more  journeys  together  till  we  take  that 
last  long  one." 

A  tear  trickled  on  grandmother's  fair  cheek,  and 
grandfather's  ruddy  face  gleamed  in  the  rays  of  the 
fire. 

"We've  had  many  happy  years  together,"  the  old 
gentleman  said. 

And  grandmother  added,  "They're  about  over 
now!  Yes,  we'll  go  to  Josiah's  to  Thanksgiving. 
It  will  be  a  treat  for  the  children.  I  can  fancy  Jotham 
stepping  proudly  toward  us  with  his  defiant  manner, 
Annette  with  her  loving  caress,  and  Harry  placidly 
saying,  'I  am  glad  to  see  you,  grandmother.'     Yes, 


22  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

well  go  to  Thanksgiving.  Three  weeks  from  to-mor- 
row, isn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  replied  grandfather,  '*  and  you'd  better  write 
to-morrow  to  tell  them  about  it.  Tell  them  that  on 
the  Tuesday  previous  we  will  send  a  box  full  of  good 
things,  so  they  need  not  be  at  any  trouble  on  our 
account.    That  is  best,  isn't  it?" 

"  Certainly,  father.  You  always  know  what  is  best. 
We'll  put  in  a  turkey  and  chickens,  a  cheese  and  some 
butter,  pies,  cakes,  and  a  quantity  of  those  little 
knick-knacks  I  make  which  they  love.  We'll  have  a 
happy  visit,  I'm  sure.  I'm  glad  Jotham  is  doing  so 
well,  now.  I  think  he  will  earn  the  rewards  I  prom- 
ised him.  You  remember,  don't  you?  I  promised 
him  a  Bible  at  the  end  of  the  year,  if  he  would  try  to 
pray  every  morning  and  evening.  I  tried  to  explain 
to  him  that  the  best  safeguard  of  our  life  is  prayer. 
Besides  that,  I  promised  him  a  flve-dollar  gold  piece 
if  he  would  keep  at  the  head  a  year ;  and  he  said  he 
could  do  that  easily  enough.  The  year  will  end  next 
summer,  and,  if  he  keeps  on  as  he  has  begun,  he'll  be 
sure  to  win  both  prizes." 

"  I  hope  he  will,"  replied  grandfather.  "  He  is 
capable  of  becoming  a  smart  man.    He  has  ability  and 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  23 

energy.  If  he  can  only  be  kept  froni  bad  companions 
he  will  do  vrell  enough." 

"That  is  not  quite  all  he  needs,"  rejoined  grand- 
mother. "  He  needs  most  of  all,  a  high  aim,  and  a 
noble  purpose.  Give  him  that,  and  he  will  outride 
temptation.  That  was  why  I  proposed  to  him  to 
strive  to  keep  at  the  head  of  the  class.  While  he  is 
aiming  for  that  he  will  become  interested  in  his 
studies;  having  gained  the  head,  he  veill  be  proud 
of  his  position  and  wiU  try  to  keep  it.  Then  I  felt 
the  necessity  of  impressing  him  with  the  importance 
of  a  religious  life.  I  wanted  to  lift  him  up  to  higher 
motives,  and  I  know  that  nothing  so  elevates  the 
mind  as  earnest  prayer." 

"  Well,"  replied  grandfather,  "1  hope  your  efforts 
will  be  successftil.  I  wish  I  could  see  the  scamp  this 
minute.  When  he  ran  away  with  my  colts  last 
summer,  I  thought  I  should  never  have  any  more 
patience  with  him :  but  I  declare,  he  was  so  sorry  for 
that,  I  could  not  help  forgiving  him." 

Thus  the  old  people  communed,  sitting  together  in 
the  glow  of  the  fire-light,  grandmother  busily  knitting, 
and  her  portly,  ruddy  consort  toying  with  the  comer 
of  the  last  weekly  paper,  in  which  he  had  just  finished 
reading  the  state  of  the  markets,  and  the    general 


24  THE   CROOK  STBAIOHTENED. 

summary  of  news.  At  length  grandmother  glanced 
at  the  tall  clock  standing  in  the  corner. 

"  See  there,  father  1  It  is  eleven  o'clock !  When 
did  ever  you  and  I  sit  up  so  late  ?  It  seems  like  forty 
years  ago,  when  the  hours  we  sat  together  were  but 
as  moments." 

"  Ah,  ha ! "  laughed  grandfather,  "  when  you  thought 
it  was  not  midnight,  and  that  the  redness  in  the  east 
was  some  fire  brokea  out.  You  couldn't  believe  the 
sun  was  about  to  rise." 

Grandmother  smiled.  "  So  you  haven't  forgotten 
that,  have  you?  Well,  you  were  as  much  surprised 
as  I.    You  didn't  think  it  was  morning." 

"  No,  I  confess  I  didn't.  It  was  a  short  night,  that's 
a  fact.  You  know 'that  was  the  first  time  you  fairly 
promised  me  to  be  mine  always.  You  haven't  been 
sorry,  have  you  ?  " 

"Never,  father,  never.  Some  trials  we've  had  to- 
gether, but  they  have  only  endeared  us  to  each  other. 
Three  of  our  little  ones  lie  under  the  sod.  Only 
Josiah  is  left  to  us,  but  he  is  a  good  son,  and  has 
three  as  fine  children  as  are  to  be  found." 

"  So  they  are,"  added  grandmother.  "  Annette  is  a 
gem,  Harry  is  good,  and  Jotham  will  be  extra  if  he 
only  tries." 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  25 

The  old  lady  rolled  up  her  knitting,  put  the  ends  of 
her  needles  carefully  through  the  ball,  and,  rising, 
dropped  the  work  into  a  basket  on  the  table,  while 
grandfather  covered  the  fire  with  ashes,  inspected  the 
fastenings  of  the  doors  and  windows,  and  soon  the 
household  was  in  quiet  sleep,  while  the  Jotham  of 
their  love,  hidden  under  the  eaves  of  a  stranger's 
barn,  sunk  into  repose  from  anxiety  and  exhaustion. 

The  next  day  it  became  known  through  the  neighbor- 
hood that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  were  going  to  the  city 
to  spend  Thanksgiving  with  their  son. 

"  It's  a  great  undertaking  for  them  at  their  time  of 
life,"  Mrs.  Furbur  said;  but  Mrs.  Mason  said,  "that 
the  very  thought  of  the  visit  seemed  to  make  them 
ten  years  younger." 

Annette's  friend  Julia  came  as  soon  as  she  heard  of 
the  intended  expedition,  and  her  smiling  face  beamed 
with  beauty  as  she  entered. 

"  O  Grandmother  Wilson,  I  heard  you  were  going  to 
see  Annette  at  Thanksgiving !  " 

"  Yes,  darling,  I  expect  to." 

Grandmother's  love  called  all  young  people  darlings. 

"Well,  graudmother,  I  am  glad  you  are  going.  I 
wish  I  could  go  too.  I  do  so  like  xinuette.  There's 
no  girl  here  I  like  so  well." 


26  TBE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  She  is  worthy  of  your  love,  Julia,"  answered 
grandmother,  proudly.  "  If  I  do  say  it  that  shouldn't 
say  it,  there  isn't  a  better  girl  in  the  country,  always 
excepting  you,  Julia." 

"  Oh,  don't  except  me,  grandmother,  I  can't  compare 
with  her.  But  give  her  my  love,  won't  you?  And  tell 
Jotham  I  haven't  forgotten  when  he  fell  into  the 
pond." 

Soon  after  Julia  left,  wild  Jack  Furbur  came  in. 

"Mrs.  Wilson,"  said  he,  striding  across  the  room, 
and  pausing  before  the  fire,  "  they  say  you  are  going 
to  spend  the  Thanksgiving  with  Jotham." 

"I  expect  to.  Jack." 

"That'll  be  jolly,  Mrs.  "Wilson.  Jotham's  a  grand 
fellow  if  he  did  run  away  with  the  colts.  He's  got  a 
big  heart,  and  he  just  opens  wide  to  a  fellow." 

"  Ah,  Jack,  too  wide,  sometimes,  I  fear.  However, 
we'll  hope  for  the  best." 

"  And  the  best  will  be  sure  to  come,  grandmother. 
You  see  father  talks  to  me  sometimes,  —  thinks  I'm 
going  to  be  wrecked  and  ruined  because  I  like  a  little 
fun.  But  how's  a  fellow  to  keep  always  a  long  face 
on?  I  can't,  and  I  tell  father  so.  But  I  must  teU  you 
what  I  came  over  for.  The  fact  is,  I  want  a  pair  of 
skates,  and  I  earned  the  money  long  ago;  but  there 


THE    CJiOOK  STRAIGHTENED.  27 

isn't  a  sinj^le  pair  in  town  that  I  like.  Now,  T  want 
you  to  ask  Jotham  to  buy  me  a  real  tip-top  pair,  the 
best  he  can  fiud  in  the  city.  Tell  him  to  try  them  on. 
If  they  fit  him  they'll  fit  me.  Our  boots  are  the  same 
size.  Tell  him  I'm  going  to  beat  every  fellow  in  these 
parts,  skating,  this  winter,  and  if  he'll  come  up  I'll  try 
a  race  with  him.    Here's  the  money." 

Grandmother  promised  to  fulfil  the  message,  and 
then  Jack  bounded  away.  Soon  came  little  Johnny 
Mason,  quietly  gliding  in. 

"  Grandma  Wilson,  be  you  going  to  see  Harry?  " 

"Yes,  darling,  I  am  going." 

"  I  do  want  to  send  Harry  something,  grandma ;  but 
I  don't  know  what  to  send.  "Will  you  carry  him  a  bag 
of  chestnuts  if  I  will  bring  them  to  you  ?  " 

"  That  I  will,  Johnny,  and  right  glad  he'U  be  of  them 
too." 

Johnny  went  out  again,  and  grandmother  mnrraured, 
"  Bless  their  hearts,  all  of  them !  They  are  all  good, 
and  I  like  to  make  them  happy." 


28  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE      GLOOMY     DAT. 

,  ORNING  dawned  slowly  into  Jotham's  narrow 
bedchamber.  The  warmth  of  the  hay  so 
snugly  packed  about  him  had  deepened  his 
slumbers,  and  at  the  early  dawn,  at  the  very  time  he 
had  intended  to  effect  his  escape,  he  was  still  soundly 
sleeping.  The  cattle  wore  astir  in  the  stalls  below, 
the  horse  was  whinnying  for  his  morning  meal,  the 
chickens  came  peeping  out,  and  chanticleer  gave  his 
early  call ;  but  the  tired  outcast  did  not  awaken. 

The  morning  was  cheerless  and  cold.  A  gray  No- 
vember mist  overspread  all  things,  and  not  one  ray  of 
sunlight  peeped  through  the  crevices.  It  was  quite 
late,  even  past  the  breakfast-hour  in  farm-houses, 
when  Jotham  first  became  conscious.  There  was  a 
pain  in  his  limbs,  an  unwonted  weariness,  and  yawn- 
ing ;  he  turned  as  though  wondering  what  could  be  the 
cause  of  these  unusual  sensations.    But  as  he  moved, 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  .29 

the  sbarp  spears  of  hay  touched  his  cheeks,  and  in  a 
moment  he  was  aroused  to  his  condition.  He  recalled 
the  events  of  the  day  previous,  and  realized  his  present 
situation.  Slightly  raising  his  head  to  ascertain 
whether  it  was  day,  he  hit  the  beam,  which  came  close 
down  to  his  bed,  so  far  back  had  he  pushed  himself  in 
his  endeavors  to  be  wholly  secreted. 

A  slight  sigh  escaped  him.  He  found  that,  though  he 
had  slept,  he  was  not  much  refreshed.  His  first 
thought  was  the  fear  of  being  discovered.  He  had  con- 
cluded, before  sleeping,  that  there  probably  were  small 
doors  to  the  barn,  which  were  fastened  inside,  and  he  had 
resolved  to  rise  early,  before  any  one  would  be  stirring, 
and  effect  his  escape.  But  now,  as  he  strained  his 
eyes  to  ascertain  the  hour,  he  saw  that  it  was  fairly 
daylight,  and  directly  he  heard  voices  bolow.  He 
could  hear  the  hay  rattle  as  it  was  pulled  from  the 
scaffold  to  the  floor,  and,  more  than  that,  he  could  see 
it  move  from  the  front  edge  of  the  very  division  where 
he  lay.    Terrified,  he  shrank  back. 

"  What  if  they  should  see  me  ?  "  he  mused. 

But  presently  he  heard  loud  voices.  A  boy  had 
come  into  the  barn,  and  a  man  called  to  him  in  an 
angry  tone,  — 


30  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

** Hallo,  here,  you  young  rascal!  I  told  you  uot  to 
touch  one  of  those  apples  last  night." 

"  I  didn't  touch  one,"  answered  the  boy.' 

"Didn't  touch  one!  What  does  this  mean,  then? 
Here's  a  core  I  found  this  morning  over  in  the  hay 
there!  You  ate  the  apple  and  then  threw  the  core 
away." 

"  I  didn't  touch  an  apple,  sir." 

"Now you  just  look  here,  youngster.  I  don't  care 
half  as  much  about  the  apple  as  you  think,  but  if  you 
are  going  to  lie  in  that  way,  you'd  better  look  out ! 
Come  here." 

Breathlessly  Jotham  listened,  and  he  heard  their 
steps  as  they  walked  toward  the  door.  Then  they 
stopped,  and  the  man  exclaimed,  — 

"There,  look  in  that  barrel!  Last  night  I  placed 
the  apples  in  it  as  evenly  as  I  could  lay  them.  Now 
you  can  see!  Just  in  the  middle  of  the  barrel  the 
handsomest  apple  of  the  lot  is  gone,  and  here  is  the 
core  tossed  off  into  the  hay.  You  thought  it  wouldn't 
be  seen  there." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  sir,"  replied  the 
boy,  firmly. 

"  Well,  I  declare ! "  exclaimed  the  man,  apparently 


TriK  Stolen  Apvlb.  — Page  31. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  31 

too  much  surprised  to  utter  more,  and  then  he 
paused. 

"  I  didn't  touch  the  apple,  sir,"  repeated  the  boy, 
this  time  more  tremulously,  and  the  man  noticed  the 
tremor. 

"You'd  better  tremble,  I  should  think!  Standing 
there  with  a  lie  in  your  mouth !  I  didn't  want  the 
apple  eaten,  but  that's  nothing  to  having  a  liar  on  my 
farm." 

Just  then  another  man  came,  and  the  case  was 
presented  to  him. 

"  You  know,  Wiley,"  said  the  first  man,  in  conclusion, 
"we  fixed  those  apples  just  before  dark,  and  they  are 
to  go  to  Deacon  Ilolman's  this  day.  They  are  the 
best  I  have,  and  I  wanted  them  to  look  a  little  extra, 
so  I  told  Joseph  not  to  touch  them.  If  he  wants 
apples,  there  are  plenty  of  others  he  can  have.  I  don't 
grudge  him  an  apple,  but  I  can't  stand  this  lying,  nor 
I  won't." 

"Joseph,"  said  the  second  man,  mildlj',  "you'd 
better  acknowledge.  I  s'pose  the  apple  looked  so 
good  you  couldn't  resist.     I  wouldn't  tell  a  falsehood." 

"But  I  didn't  touch  it,  sir,"  remonstrated  the  boy. 
"  I  wasn't  out  here  last  night.  You  know  I  was  saw-^ 
ing  wood  in  the  shed." 


32  THE    CROOK  STSAIGHTEXED. 

"Yes,"  said  the  first  man,  "you  was  sawing  wood, 

but  you  managed  to  get  out  here  and  eat  that.    Don't 

deny  it  again.     Own  it,  and  perhaps  I'll  forgive  you, 

» 
and  keep  you ;  but  deny  it,  and  you  leave  my  service. 

I'll  not  hire  a  liar." 

"Joseph,"  said  the  second  man,  "confess  it  now, 
and  I'll  plead  with  your  master  to  forgive  you.  I'll  be 
your  friend.  As  the  Lord  hath  forgiven  me  my  sins, 
I'll  plead  with  him  to  forgive  you.  You  know,  Joseph, 
that  I  think  you  are  a  Christian." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Wiley,  I  hope  I  am.  You  know  I  would 
not  touch  an  apple  after  Mr.  Lothrop  told  me  not  to, 
and  you  know  I  wouldn't  tell  a  lie." 

"I  didn't  think  you  would,  Joseph;  but  somebody 
did  eat  the  apple,  that  is  certain.  Here  is  the  core,  and 
there  is  the  place  where  the  apple  was  taken  out." 

"  And  of  course  he  ate  it,"  responded  Mr.  Lothrop, 
sternly.  "There  was  not  another  living  soul  about 
here.  And  I  remember  now,-  he  didn't  come  in  to  sup- 
per so  soon  as  we  did." 

■     "  That  was  because  I  wanted  to  finish  tliat  big  stick 
of  wood,"  answered  the  boy. 

"  Stufi"  and  nonsense !  "  returned  Mr.  Lothrop.  "  I 
don't  believe  a  word  you  say.  I  never  did  have  any 
couiideuce  in  those  pretended  Christians.    They  are 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  33 

hypocrites,  every  one  of  them.  Begging  your  pardon, 
friend  Wiley,  I  don't  mean  you." 

"I  forgive  you,"  replied  Mr,  Wiley,  "but  I  do  not 
agree  with  you.  I  believe  there  are  sincere  Christians 
who  would  sooner  forfeit  their  lives  than  do  a  wrong 
act,  and  I  thought  this  boy  was  one  of  them.  I  have 
known  him  from  the  cradle,  and  this  is  the  first  time 
I  ever  saw  anything  that  looked  suspicious  in  his  ac- 
tions. Joseph,  my  boy,  I  wish  you  would  confess  it. 
I'll  get  Mr.  Lothrop  to  forgive  you." 

"Yes,  boy,"  returned  Mr.  Lothrop;  "just  own  it  and 
I'll  say  no  more.  It's  only  a  little  thing,  and  if  you'll 
tell  the  truth,  I'll  keep  you,  for  I  like  you." 

"  I  do  tell  the  truth,  sir,"  returned  the  boy,  boldly. 
"  I  did  not  touch  the  apple,  and  I  do  not  know  any- 
thing about  it." 

"  Well,  well,"  returned  Mr.  Lothrop,  "  this  beats  me  I 
Such  audacity !  I  believe  I  owe  you  six  dollars,  boy. 
Here,  take  it ;  I  happen  to  have  it  in  my  pocket.  Take 
it,  and  go !    I  want  no  liars  on  my  premises." 

The  boy  broke  into  sobs. 

"  Don't  send  me  away,  Mr.  Lothrop.  It  is  just 
winter  and  I  can't  find  another  place.  My  poor  mother 
has  no  one  to  earn  for  her  but  me." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  regard  your  mother,  speak  the 

3 


S4  nZS  CMtOOK  'STRAIGHTESED. 

truth,  and  yoo  can  still  woik  for  her.  I  promise  yoa 
m  keep  yon  if  yonH  teD  the  tmtii." 

*<I  do  tell  the  troth,  sir.  I  should  tell  a  lie  if  I 
should  say  I  ate  the  ai^e.* 

*<Bare-Cu:ed  impudence  I"  returned  Mr.  Lothrc^ 
scornflilly.  **  The  fiurts  are  here  before  our  eyes,  and 
yet  you  deny  it.    Go,  as  soon  as  possible." 

Audible  sobs  still  came  ftom  the  boy. 

"  Xobody  win  hire  me,  sir,  if  you  call  me  a  liar  and 
send  me  away.    People  will  belieTe  you." 

"leant  help  it,"  returned  Mr.  Lothrop.  "I  have 
my  own  eyes  against  your  word." 

Mr.  WDey  once  more  expostulated,  but  all  in  Tain. 
Mr.  Lothrop  declared  he  would  not  have  a  liar  near 
him,  and  presently  poor  Joseph  went  out.  As  Jotham, 
up  in  his  narrow  bed,  heard  the  boy  go  away,  he  was 
in  a  tumult  of  excited  feelings.  His  honest,  open- 
hearted  impulses  prompted  him  to  rush  down,  confess 
the  truth,  and  bring  Joseph  back  to  the  confidence  of 
his  master;  but  a  cowardly  fear  restrained  him.  He 
knew  by  the  sound  of  Mr.  Lothrop's  voice  that  he  must 
be  a  stem  man,  and  he  dreaded  the  consequences  to 
himself. 

* '  Ob,  dear ! "  he  inwardly  groaned.  "  Annette  always 
said  crooked  paths  were  hard,  and  I  believe  they  are. 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTEKED.  35 

for  every  step  I  take  in  them  leads  into  tronWe.  I 
knew  I  had  no  right  to  toach  that  apple,  but  I  thought 
I  conld  leave  a  cent  in  its  place,  so  it  wouldn't  be  steal- 
ing. Oh,  dear !  What  shall  I  do  ?  I've  a  good  mind 
to  jump  right  down  there,  and  tell  Mr.  Lothrop  all 
about  it ;  but  then,  hell  give  me  a  thrashing,  likely  as 
not,  and  teU  me  to  go  home.  Oh,  dear!  What  shall  I 
do?  I  wish  I  had  stayed  at  home.  Father  would  have 
got  good-natured  sometime,  and  I  don't  wonder  he  was 
cross.  I  didn't  do  right.  Oh,  dear!  I'm  the  meanest 
boy  that  ever  lived,  and  I  used  to  think  I  was  so  smart  I 
I  wish  I  had  never  gone  with  George  Thompson.  If  I 
had  only  minded  Annette,  I  would  have  been  aU  right. 
Dear  Annette  I  I  wonder  where  she  is?  I'm  the 
meanest  fellow  in  the  world ! " 

Thus  thinking,  instead  of  acting.  Jotham  suffered  the 
moments  to  pass  away.  First  thinking  he  would  go  to 
Mr.  Lothrop  and  confess,  then,  dreading  the  conse- 
quences and  shrinking  back,  he  was  equal  to  no  con- 
fession. The  moments  passed  away,  and  soon  the  op- 
portunity was  gone,  for  Mr.  Lothrop  said,  "Wiley, 
you  harness  the  horse,  and  I'U  take  this  barrel  of  ap- 
ples over  to  Deacon  Holman,  now.  Ill  just  run  Into 
the  house  and  get  another  apple  to  replace  this  One. 


36  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

I've  apples  enough,  and  I  didn't  so  much  mind  the 
loss  of  one ;  but  I  do  hate  liars,  and  I  won't  keep  one." 

"I'm  dreadful  sorry  this  has  happened,"  replied 
Wiley.  "I  never  knew  that  boy  do  a  mean  thing.  I 
don't  understand  it,  and  there's  his  mother  depending 
on  his  work ;  I  don't  know  what  she'll  do." 

"She'd  better  take  some  of  his  pretended  religion 
out  of  him,"  sneered  Mr.  Lothrop'  as  he  went  out  of 
the  barn.    "  It's  sheer  hypocrisy." 

In  a  moment  Mr.  Lothrop  was  gone,,  and  Mr.  Wiley 
had  led  the  horse  into  the  open  barn. 

"Now's  my  time,"  thought  Jotham.  "Wiley  is  a 
good  man.  I'll  go  right  down  and  tell  him,  for  I'm  so 
sorry  for  poor  Joseph." 

Drawing  his  wearied  limbs  from  their  cramped  bed, 
he  began  to  rub  them,  for  they  felt  numb,  and  as  he 
rubbed  he  summoned  anew  his  resolution  to  face  Mr. 
Wiley  and  tell  the  whole  truth. 

"  Dear  me !  "  he  murmured,  inwardly,  "  how  numb 
my  legs  are ! " 

Then  he  gave  another  poll,  and  the  hay  rustled  about 
him. 

"What  in  creation's  that?"  asked  Mr.  Lothrop, 
coming  into  the  bam  with  the  apple,  and  looking  up  as 
the  hay  rustled. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  37 

Mr.  "Wiley  smiled.  "It's  the  hens,  probably.  Per- 
haps one  is  making  a  nest  up  there.  You're  excited, 
Mr.  Lothrop." 

"  It's  enough  to  make  one  excited,"  he  answered* 
gruffly.  "I  wanted  that  boy  more  than  a  little.  He's 
the  best  boy  I  ever  had,  and  to  think  he  should  lie  so, 
—  right  in  my  face.  But  I  must  be  off.  You  go  up  on 
the  scaffold  by  and  by,  Wiley,  and  see  if  there's  a  nest. 
Wait  till  you  think  the  hen  is  gone,  because  she  won't 
do  so  well  if  you  disturb  her." 

Jotham  shrank  back  at  the  sound  of  Mr.  Lothrop's 
voice.    He  could  not  acquire  courage  to  meet  him. 

"  He  doesn't  seem  a  bad  man,"  he  said  to  himself; 
"  but  he's  just  like  my  father.  He's  good  to  those  who 
do  right ;  but  if  a  fellow  does  wrong,  he's  no  mercy.  I 
dare  not  go  down.  He'd  kill  me.  But  when  he's  gone, 
I'll  go  down  and  tell  Wiley." 

But  in  this  he  was  disappointed.  He  thought  Mr. 
Lothrop  would  drive  away  and  leave  Wiley  at  the 
bam,  but,  after  Mr.  Lothrop  was  in  the  wagon,  he 
called,  — 

"Wiley,  the  chores  are  all  done  here,  aren't  they?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  for  the  present." 

"  Well,  you'd  better  go  and  finish  sawing  that  wood, 
now  Joseph's  gone." 


38  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  and  then  Jotham  heard  the  great 
doors  shut,  heard  the  wagon  go  away,  and  Mr.  Wiley 
walking  toward  the  house.  A  death-like  silence  came 
into  the  barn.  The  cattle  had  been  turned  into  the 
yard,  the  horse  no  longer  stamped,  and  a  few  hens 
were  the  only  sign  of  life. 

Jotham  reflected,  "What  shall  I  do?  Wiley  will 
be  back  by  and  by,  looking  up  here  after  a  hen's  nest. 
I'd  better  be  ofl"." 

Then  his  conscience  whispered,  "Don't  go  till  you 
have  cleared  Joseph.  Find  Wiley,  and  tell  him.  Do 
one  right  thing." 

Buoyed  by  this  idea,  he  slid  from  the  scaffold  down 
to  the  hay,  then  leaped  the  low  railing  and  stood  upon 
the  bam-floor.  A  thought  of  the  savage  dog  crossed 
his  mind,  and  he  resolved  to  reconnoitre.  Perhaps  the 
mastiff  might  be  watching  outside.  Softly  stepping  he 
looked  through  the  small  windows  of  the  barn,  passing 
from  side  to  side  till  he  had  taken  the  ftdl  bearings 
of  the  situation.  No  dog  was  in  sight.  The  large 
doors  of  the  barn  opened  directly  upon  the  road,  the 
house  was  at  a  little  distance  on  one  side,  and,  as  no 
person  appeared  in  view,  the  boy  hastily  dropped  a 
cent  on  a  stool  near,  opened  the  door,  and,  sliding 
through,  leaped  into  the  street.    He  was  trembling 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  39 

with  aflfright,  like  a  prisoner  escaped  from  his  dun- 
geon. 

In  his  first  impulse,  he  ran,  as  though  longing  to 
leave  a  place  of  so  much  danger ;  but  then  he  thought 
of  Joseph,  and  turned  to  go  toward  the  house.  He 
stepped  quickly  though  timidly,  but  just  as  he  came  to 
the  gate,  two  men  came  driving  down  the  road,  and 
turned  into  the  yard.  Wiley  heard  them  and  came  to 
meet  them.  Jotham  paused,  and,  as  he  looked  about 
him,  he  saw  through  the  window  a  little  girl  looking 
earnestly  at  him.  Her  face  was  pleasant,  and  the 
guilty  boy  might  not  have  turned  from  her,  but  beside 
her  he  saw  the  huge  mastiff  also  looking  at  him,  and 
he  turned  quickly  away. 

"  I  can't  tell  WUey,"  he  murmured,  by  way  of  excuse 
for  his  cowardice.  "  Those  men  are  talking  with  him. 
I'll  be  off  somewhere,  no  matter  where." 

Tiie  little  girl  watched  him,  wondering  who  he  could 
be,  but  he  was  soon  out  of  sight  and  she  thought  of 
him  no  more.  He  went  away  with  his  guilt  and  his 
wretchedness  hanging  about  him.  He  tried  to  appease 
his  conscience  for  eating  the  apple  by  thinking  how 
hungry  he  was,  and  that  he  had  left  a  cent  in  its  place ; 
but,  ill  spite  of  his  reasonings,  straightforward  con- 
scientiousness told  him  he  had  done  another  very  mean 


40  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

thing.  He  felt  meanly  enough  before.  He  was 
ashamed  that  he  had  run  away  from  home  just  because 
his  father  was  cross  to  him  when  he  knew  he  deserved 
censure ;  but  now  this  new  guilt  seemed  to  be  greater 
than  the  others.  He  was  haunted  by  the  voice  of 
Joseph,  pleading,  "  I  do  tell  the  truth,  sir ; "  and  he  said 
to  himself,  "  That  was  a  noble  fellow,  and  I  have 
driven  him  from  his  good  place  to  work ;  I  have  cast  a 
stain  upon  his  character.  I've  a  mind  to  find  him,  and 
tell  him  all  about  it ;  but  no,  he's  so  good,  he  would 
look  at  me  with  scorn.  I  couldn't  face  him.  What 
will  become  of  me  ?    I'm  sure  I  cannot  tell." 

"When  one  has  been  guilty  of  a  crime,  it  is  surprising 
how  the  mind  will  vacillate  under  reflection.  As 
Jotham  slowly  walked  over  the  frozen  road  that 
dreary  autumnal  day,  a  thousand  varying  emotions 
filled  his  mind.  He  was  weary,  hungry,  unrefreshed 
by  his  night's  rest,  and  he  knew  not  where  to  go; 
too  proud  to  beg,  and  too  poor  to  buy.  In  his  own 
orderly  home,  he  had  every  morning  bathed  his  face, 
combed  his  hair,  put  on  a  clean  collar,  and  made  his 
appearance  neat  and  becoming.  This  morning  he 
went  just  as  he  pulled  himself  from  the  hay,  except 
that  once  he  took  off  his  cap  in  the  street  and 
smoothed  his  hair  a  little  with  his  pocket-comb.    His 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  41 

clothes  were  full  of  hay-dust,  and  his  eyes  seemed 
weary  and  dull. 

.  Thoughts  of  home  came  to  him,  but  they  were  soon 
discarded.  He  believed  his  father's  house  could  be  a 
home  to  him  no  longer. 

"No,"  he  said  to  himself,  emphatically,  "I  cannot 
go  there  now.  If  I  should  tell  my  father  the  truth, 
he  would  shut  the  door  in  my  face,  and  I  cannot  tell  a 
lie.  No,  Joseph  would  not  tell  a  lie,  even  to  save  his 
place,  and  I  won't  tell  a  lie.  No,  I  cannot  go  home 
now.  I  have  no  home.  My  father  said  he  would 
discard  me,  forever,  if  I  committed  another  misde- 
meanor. He  said  I  must  work,  and  I  will.  I've  a 
mind  to  go  back  and  try  another  captain.  I  could 
go  to  sea.  Maybe  some  other  captain  would  take  me. 
I  don't  believe  I'm  so  very  bad,  after  all.  Pather 
never  had  patience  with  me.  I  didn't  mean  any 
harm." 

On  he  wandered,  burdened  under  every  variety  of 
imagination,  growing  more  tired  and  more  hungry. 
Once  he  came  to  a  village,  and,  going  into  a  grocery 
store,  purchased  a  few  crackers  with  his  few  remain- 
ing pennies;  but  these  were  soon  gone,  and  then  he 
drifted  hopelessly  on. 

Hunger  is  a  hard  master.    It  will  bring  down  the 


42  THE   CROOK  STItAIGHTENED. 

most  obstinate.  When  once  it  has  set  up  its  claim, 
it  demands  with  an  imperious  audacity.  Jotham  tried 
by  every  means  to  forget  that  faint  gnawing  which 
sickened  him;  but  it  would  not  be  forgotten.  Back 
again  the  terrible  feeling  would  come,  each  time  with 
renewed  strength.  It  was  nearly  thirty-six  hours 
since  he  had  eaten  a  fhll  meal.  Two  apples  and  a  few 
dry  crackers  were  all  that  had  sustained  him  during 
a  continuous  walk  of  nearly  two  days,  for  it  was  now 
almost  dark  of  the  second  day  since  he  left  his  home. 
Many  miles  lay  between  him  and  the  bam  where  he 
had  slept.  He  wanted  it  so,  for  though  no  person 
had  seen  him  there,  he  felt  like  a  criminal  on  the  point 
of  detection.  Now  he  was  so  far  away  that  he 
seemed  more  secure,  and  as  another  night  was  draw- 
ing on,  he  began  to  wonder  where  he  should  sleep 
again. 

At  length  he  came  to  the  foot  of  a  hill,  which  he 
began  to  ascend.  The  place  was  exceedingly  lonely, 
and  the  road  rough.  Not  a  house  was  visible.  Half- 
way up  the  hill  he  paused,  and  a  few  tears  dropped 
upon  his  cheeks.  He  was  so  exhausted  that  he  could 
scarcely  walk,  and  he  sat  down  upon  a  stone  beside 
the  road,  thinking  he  would  crawl  into  the  woods 
near  by,  and  there  sleep  till  he  should  sleep  the  last 


TRE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  43 

repose  of  death.  He  saw  that  he  must  die  or  beg 
some  food,  and  he  thought  it  would  be  better  to  die. 

But  the  invisible,  loving  God,  who  has  made  immor- 
tal souls  upon  this  earth,  does  not  leave  them  to  perish. 
Their  transgressions  may  bring  sorrow  upon  them- 
selves, but  he  who  watches  does  not  leave  them. 
He  loves  the  erring  as  well  as  the  good,  and  seeks  the 
wandering,  that  they  may  be  brought  back  to  the  light 
of  life.  Jotham  needed  chastisements  that  he  might 
learn  to  walk  in  a  straight  path ;  but  God  would  not 
leave  him  to  die  there  alone. 

Just  as  he  was  thinking  these  despairing  thoughts, 
seeing  nothing  but  darkness  before  him,  he  heard  a 
sound  at  the  foot  of  the  hUl,  — 

"Whoa!    Whoa!" 

The  voice  betokened  distress,  and,  involuntarily,  he 
glanced  in  that  direction.  There  were  two  horses 
there,  and  an  old  man  was  trying  to  hold  them.  He 
had  a  large  farm-wagon,  on  which  were  several  bags 
of  grain,  some  boxes,  and  a  pile  of  dried  cod-fish. 
By  some  accident,  some  of  these  bags  and  boxes  had 
slipped  oflf,  and  the  old  man  was  trying  to  hold  the 
horses  while  he  could  replace  them.  At  any  former 
period  in  his  life  Jotham  would  have  rushed  to  help 
in  such  an  emergency ;  but  now  he  sat  stupidly  look- 


44  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

tng.  He  felt  too  thoroughly  debased  to  be  of  assist- 
ance to  any  one.  Such  is  the  power  of  wrong-doing 
over  the  human  mind. 

The  old  man  tugged  and  worked  till  he  grew  exas- 
perated. Every  time  he  left  the  horses  to  pick  up  a 
bag,  they  would  start.  The  hill  was  not  very  steep 
at  the  foot,  the  load  was  light,  and  the  horses  were 
going  toward  home.  They  had  no  idea  of  waiting, 
for  they,  too,  had  empty  stomachs,  and  were  in  haste 
for  their  hay  and  oats. 

"Confound  you!"  screamed  the  old  man,  as  they 
started  the  fourth  time  before  he  had  picked  up  a 
single  bag.  "I'll  give  it  to  you  I  I'll  break  your 
necks  for  you !  " 

In  the  fury  of  his  passion,  he  ran  in  front  of  the 
horses  and  begun  to  back  them,  for  they  had  drawn 
the  wagon  quite  a  distance  from  the  spot  where  the 
bags  lay. 

"  Back  there,  I  tell  ye !  Back ! "  he  shouted,  strik- 
ing them  across  their  noses,  and  "back"  they  went, 
faster  than  he  could  hold  them.  They  came  to  the 
bags,  and  then  he  screamed,  again,  "  Whoa ! "  —  but  not 
they.  They  had  begun  to  back,  and  they  were  deter- 
mined to  do  it.  The  old  man  clutched  at  their  bridles 
and  pulled  with  all  his  force,  but  they  thought  of  their 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  45 

smarting  noses,  and  still  receded.  Presently  the 
wagon  behind  them  veered,  and  they  turned  also. 
Around  went  the  wheels,  after  them  backed  the 
horses,  tossing  their  heads  in  the  air  and  jerking  the 
old  man  from  his  feet.  A  few  more  turns,  and  the 
wheels  ran  off  at  the  side  of  a  deep  ditch,  the  wagon 
capsized,  the  horses  stopped  by  the  entanglement  of 
the  harnesses,  and  the  old  man  stood  helplessly  be- 
fore them. 

Jotham  had  watched  these  proceedings  with  in- 
creasing interest.  His  benumbed  fticulties  seemed  to 
rouse,  and  he  forgot  himself,  as  his  eyes  were  riveted 
on  the  scene  of  excitement.  But  he  did  not  stir  until 
he  saw  the  lumbering  wagon  in  the  ditch.  Then  his 
hunger  and  his  misery  were  forgotten  and  his  natural 
impulses  returned.  Springing  from  his  seat,  he  ran 
down  the  hill  as  though  wings  helped  him,  and,  in  a 
moment,  stood  by  the  old  man's  side. 

"  Where  d'j^e  come  from  ?  "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Come  down  the  hill,  sir." 

*'  Was  that  you  settin'  on  the  stone  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Wall,  why  on  airth  didn't  you  come  sooner? 
What  d'ye  sit  there  for,  when  a  feller  was  in  dis- 
tress?" 


46  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Jotham  did  not  reply.  The  old  man's  manner 
seemed  unkind,  and  the  boy  hardly  knew  what  to  say. 
However,  they  soon  went  to  work,  and  the  old  man 
found  the  new-comer  an  excellent  assistant.  His 
ready  invention  soon  extricated  the  horses,  and,  as  he 
worked  with  a  "  right  good- will,"  his  good  sense  soon 
brought  order  out  of  confusion. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  47 


CHAPTER    III. 

FINDING    A    HOME. 

T  was  not  an  easy  task  to  pick  up  that  over- 
turned  "wagon,  and  rearrange  the  scattered 
load.  Darkness  was  coming  on  apace,  and 
Jotham  entirely  forgot  his  own  situation  while  his 
hands  wrought  busily.  He  had  a  strong  natural  love 
for  horses,  and  the  admirable  manner  in  which  these 
had  foiled  their  master,  quite  won  his  admiration  for 
them,  although  he  had  sympathized  with  their  owner 
in  his  distress.  As  the  two  spirited  animals  were  cut 
loose  from  their  fastenings,  and,  bounding  forward, 
shook  themselves  as  though  rejoicing  in  the  disaster 
they  had  caused,  Jotham  looked  at  them  with  admira- 
tion. He  saw  that  they  were  high-mettled,  fat,  and 
glossy,  and  even  now  little  disposed  to  wait  patient- 
ly till  the  boxes  and  bags  were  restored  to  their 
places. 
"  Let  me  hold  them,"  said  Jotham,  seeing  they  were 


48  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENKD 

determined  not  to  stand,  and  their  owner  readily  as- 
sented. 

Jotham  grasped  the  bridle  with  one  hand,  and  with 
the  other  stroked  their  manes  and  faces,  looking  in 
their  spirited  eyes,  and  they  seemed  to  yield  to  him 
a  passive  obedience.  He  tamed  them,  very  much  as 
he  had  once  captivated  his  grandfather's  colts  in  the 
pasture;  and  while  he  was  doing  this  the  old  man 
righted  his  team. 

"  It's  lucky  I  have  some  strings,"  he  remarked,  as  he 
examined  the  harnesses.  "  I  always  carry  strings  for 
fear  of  accidents.  But,  I  do  declare,  this  ere's  a 
pretty  job.  These  ere  harnesses  will  have  to  be  sent 
off  to  be  fixed,  I'll  tie  'em  up  now,  but  they'll  have 
to  be  fixed.  That'll  be  a  pretty  job  of  cost.  'Twill 
take  some  dollars,  I  dunno  how  many,  to  fix  'em.  I'd 
like  to  give  them  horses  an  almighty  walloping. 

A  fierce,  disagreeable  expression  crossed  the  man's 
face,  and  Jotham  half  shrank  away,  but  the  expression 
passed  away  directly,  and  soon  the  team  was  ready  to 
recommence  the  ascent  of  the  hill.  Then  the  old  man 
looked  at  his  new  assistant,  and  for  the  first  time 
seemed  to  wonder  who  he  might  be. 

"What's  your  name,  youngster?"  he  asked,  as  he 
was  about  to  start  the  horses 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  49 

♦'  Jotham  Wilson,  sir." 

"Aha!  I  don't  know  that  name.  You  don't  belong 
in  this  town,  I  take  it?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Jotham,  a  thought  of  his  situa- 
tion flashing  into  his  mind. 

"Where  d'ye  come  from?" 

"  From  the  city,"  replied  the  boy,  hesitatingly,  not 
quite  liking  to  reveal  the  home  which  he  had  so  igno- 
miniously  loft. 

"From  the  city!"  replied  the  man,  scanning  him 
closely  in  the  deepening  twilight.  "  What  kind  of  a 
boy  are  you?    What  are  you  ofl"  out  here  for?  " 

These  were  questions  not  very  agreeable  to  Jotham. 
As  to  the  first,  he  hardly  knew  what  to  say,  for  he  was 
not  quite  certain  what  kind  of  a  boy  he  was.  Once  he 
thought  himself  "  a  splendid  fellow; "  but  now  he  felt 
like  a  guilty  culprit.  His  own  conduct  seemed  to  him- 
self very  mean,  and  besides  hunger  was  beginning  to  • 
speak  again  now  that  the  excitement  was  passing 
away. 

The  second  question  was  equally  difficult,  for  he  was 
not  willing  to  tell  that  he  stole  apples  from  an  old  lady, 
was  thrust  into  the  lock-up,  and  had  run  away  because 
his  father  censured  him  for  such  misconduct.     But 


60  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

while  he  hesitated,  he  felt  those  cold  gray  eyes  resting 
upon  him,  and  presently  the  old  man  spoke  again. 

"  I  say,  boy,  what  are  you  here  for  ?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  know  where  to  be." 

"  Why,  haven't  you  any  home?  " 

"No,  sir." 

Now,  Jotham  feared  a  lie,  and  he  excused  himself 
for  this  prevarication  by  thinking  that  truly  he  had 
no  home,  for  his  father  had  threatened  to  discard  him 
forever,  and  that  had  made  him  a  wanderer.  But  the 
old  man  h^d  more  questions  yet,  Jotham's  prompt 
assistance  and  ready  intelligence  had  pleased  him, 
and  now  his  curiosity  was  aroused. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "let's  jump  into  the  wagon.  The 
horses  may  as  well  draw  us,  they  feel  so  nicely." 

"Now,"  said  the  man,  as  they  started  up  the  hill, 
"tell  me  all  about  yourself.  Haven't  you  got  any 
father  and  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boy,  with  some  hesitation. 

'•  Well,  why  don't  you  stay  at  home  ?  " 

A  sudden  idea  flashed  into  Jotham's  mind  by  which 
he  thought  he  might  screen  himself,  throw  the  blame 
upon  his  father,  and  prevent  further  questions,  and  yet 
not  tell  a  falsehood.    Accordingly,  he  answered,  — 

"  Aly  fatliei'  suys  I  must  work." 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  51 

"Aha!  That's  it,  is  it?  Can't  afford  to  keep  you 
any  longer?  Well,  you  do  look  big  enough  to  work, 
and  twon't  hurt  you  to  earn  your  own  living.  But 
why  don't  he  put  you  into  a  store?  That's  the  way 
city  boys  generally  do." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go,"  answered  the  boy,  still  trying 
to  keep  within  the  bounds  of  truth. 

"Don't  you?  "Wall,  that's  strange  1  What  do  you 
want  to  do?    Work  on  a  farm?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  would  do  that." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  it? " 

"I  never  worked  much  on  one,  but  I've  been  to  my 
grandfather's  and  seen  them  work  there." 

"  Where  does  your  grandfather  live  ?  " 

"  At  Cherryfleld." 

"Cheriyfleld  —  Cherryfleld  —  I  don't  rightly  know 
where  that  is.  —  In  this  State?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  way  up  north  of  Boston." 

"  Ay,  ay,  yes.  Wall,  I  don't  know  much  about  the 
towns  there.  —  Where  are  jou  going  to-night?  " 

"I  don't  know,  sir." 

"Don't  you?  Wall,  that's  a  pretty  hard  case. 
'Twan't  right  for  your  father  to  send  you  out  so  to 
find  a  place.  He  ought  to  have  found  one  for  you. 
(jlol  any  money  ?" 


52  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Wall,  wall,  you  must  have  a  queer  kind  of  a  father. 
Guess  I  must  take  you  in  to-night.  You've  done  me  a 
good  service,  and  it's  no  more'n  fair  I  should  keep  you." 

Jotham's  heart  leaped  with  joy.  He  thought  not 
nor  cared  what  kind  of  a  man  this  new  acquaintance 
might  be.  It  was  sufflcient  for  him  to  know  that  he 
was  to  be  taken  to  some  kind  of  a  home  where  he 
would  be  likely  to  have  something  to  eat.  He  turned 
toward  the  old  man  and  thanked  him. 

"Aha!  So  you're  glad  to  go  with  me?  Wall,  I 
don't  wonder.  I  should  think  you'd  want  a  place  to 
sleep.  'Twas  a  risky  way  you  took  to  find  work,  for 
'tisu't  every  one  wants  to  take  in  a  boy  that  pomes 
round  so.  There  might  be  something  wrong,  you 
know." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  and 
the  impatient  horses  were  allowed  to  go  at  the  height 
of  their  speed.  One  or  two  small  farra-liouses  were 
passed,  and  then  they  turned  into  a  broad,  uufeuced 
yard.  Jotham  could  see  very  little,  for  it  was  now 
quite  dark,  but  he  observed  that  the  windows  were 
without  blinds,  and  that  the  only  light  visible  was  at 
the  extreme  rear  of  the  house,^  which  seemed  to  be 
large,  but  iu  no  way  ek'gaiit. 


THE    CnOOK  STRAIGHTENED.  53 

As  they  drove  opposite  the  kitchen  ■windows,  a 
brown  dog  leaped  into  the  wagon,  giving  the  master  a 
cordial  welcome,  then  turning  to  inspect  the  new 
visitor. 

"Get  down!  get  down!"  said  the  master,  and  at 
that  moment  the  outer  kitchen  door  opened,  and  a 
large  woman  came  in  sight. 

"  "Why  didn't  you  come  sooner?  "  she  demanded,  in  a 
heavy,  masculine  voice. 

Jotham  looked  to  see  if  there  was  a  man  behind  her, 
for  he  could  hardly  believe  such  a  voice  could  be  the 
utterance  of  a  woman.  He  saw  no  one,  however,  and 
was  compelled  to  believe  it  was  she  who  spoke.  The 
man  answered  drily,  — 

"  Got  tipped  over." 

"  Got  tipped  over!  "  repeated  the  woman,  in  a  tone 
of  horror.     "  And  did  you  come  out  all  safe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  pretty  safe.  It'll  cost  me  something  to  get 
the  harnesses  mended,  though." 

"Cost!  will  it?"  sneered  the  woman,  finding  that 
was  all  the  damage.  "  Why  didn't  you  keep  right  side 
up  ?    You're  always  doing  something  to  take  money." 

The  man  made  no  reply,  and  the  woman  re- 
turned to  the  kitchen,  soon  appearing  again  with  a 
lighted  lantern,  which  she  placed  upon  the  broad  stone 


54  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

step  of  the  door.  She  gave  a  searching  glance  at 
Jotham,  as  the  rays  from  the  lantern  revealed  him,  but, 
without  speaking,  re-entered  the  house,  and  the  rattle 
of  dishes  soon  told  that  she  was  preparing  supper. 
Never  was  there  a  more  welcome  sound  to  Jotham. 
His  fainting  system  revived  at  the  cheering  ring  of  the 
cups  and  plates,  and,  seizing  the  lantern,  he  followed 
the  man  and  horses  to  the  barn. 

"Fly  round,"  said  the  man,  as  they  drew  off  the 
harnesses.  "You  lead  one  horse,  and  I  will  lead  the 
other." 

Jotham  hastened,  for  the  ring  of  the  dishes  was  still 
in  his  ears,  and  the  gnawing  within  him  was  almost 
insupportable.  He  unbuckled  the  straps,  threw  the 
blanket  over  the  horse,  and  led  him  to  the  stall  with 
the  utmost  celerity. 

"Smart  boy!"  muttered  the  man.  "Knows  what 
he's  about,  I  reckon.  I  wonder  now  if  'twouldn't  be  a 
good  idee !  It's  mighty  unhandy  to  do  all  the  work 
alone.  I've  tried  it  many  a  winter,  and  I've  got  about 
tired  on't.    'Twould  be  a  good  idee  to  hire  him." 

Then  turning  to  Jotham,  he  added,  "  Toss  up  a  little 
of  this  hay  to  the  horses,  and  I'll  give  the  cattle  a  little 
of  this  ere  fodderin'.  The  old  woman  fed  'em  some,  I 
reckon,  when  sbe  tied  'em  up."    , 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  55 

"  The  old  woman ! "  thought  Jotham,  "  What  does 
he  mean  ?  Does  that  woman  come  out  and  tie  up  the 
cattle  ?    I  wonder  whether  she's  his  wife." 

But  he  had  not  long  to  wonder,  for  in  a  moment 
the  man  called,  "  Come,  let's  go  in  and  have  some 
grub." 

At  any  other  time  Jotham  would  have  smiled,  but 
now  lie  was  so  hungry  that  language  mattered  little  to 
him.  Two  days  of  almost  entire  fasting  had  nearly 
subdued  him.  He  followed  the  man  into  the  broad 
kitchen,  where  the  table  was  spread  for  the  supper, 
but  not,  as  he  was  anticipating,  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  It  was  not  a  nice  oval  table  covered  with  a 
white  cloth,  such  as  he  had  always  sat  by  in  his 
mother's  home,  but  it  stood  by  the  side  of  the  room, 
as  though  the  mistress  thought  it  too  much  trouble  to 
take  it  to  the  centre  of  the  floor,  and  its  covering  was 
a  painted  oil-cloth. 

One  little  flush  of  disappointment  crossed  the  mind 
of  the  hungry  boy,  but  he  quickly  recovered,  for  he 
saw  a  plate  of  bread  on  this  little  side-table,  and  the 
flavor  of  tea  was  in  the  room.  There  was  a  large 
kitchen  stove,  in  which  the  wood  was  brightly  burning, 
and  by  this  stove  stood  a  woman  busily  stirring  some 
mixture.    She  turned  as  they  came  in,  and  cast  an  in- 


56  THE   CROOK  STRAIOHTENED. 

quiring  glance  upon  Jotham.  The  man  came  for- 
ward. 

"  I've  picljed  up  this  chap,"  he  said,  "  and  I  want 
you  to  give  him  some  supper." 

"  Who  is  he?  "  asked  the  woman,  bending  her  eyes 
fbll  upon  him.  Cold  gray  eyes  they  were,  and  Jotham 
did  not  like  them;  but  what  could  he  do?  He  could 
not  escape  their  scrutiny.  Turning  to  the  man,  who 
had  now  taken  off  his  hat,  he  saw  by  the  light  of  the 
kitchen  candle  that  he  was  quite  bald,  with  a  receding 
forehead,  a  long,  pointed  nose,  thin,  gray  beard,  and  a 
sallow  complexion.  His  eyes,  too,  were  gray,  cold,  and 
hard,  though  a  little  less  resolute  in  their  expression 
than  were  the  eyes  of  the  woman,  whose  broad  face, 
and  large,  solid  body  spoke  of  indomitable  will  and 
persevering  industry.  The  boy  glanced  furtively  from 
one  to  the  other,  while  thej',  in  their  turn,  scanned  him. 
Not  at  all  like  them  was  he.  His  full,  beaming  eye, 
his  bright  chestnut  locks,  his  broad  white  forehead, 
and  his  intelligent  expression  marked  him  as  no 
ordinary  boy,  and  both  the  farmer  and  his  wife  mar- 
velled that  such  a  boy  should  be  there,  penniless  and 
liomeless.  Little  did  they  think  that  beneath  that 
handsome  face  there  was  a  marred  manhood.  Little 
did  they  think  that  bad  companions  had  seduced  that 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  57 

noble-looking  youth,  till  he  felt  meaner  than  the  dog 
•walking  wistfully  beside  the  table. 

Jotham  did  not  speak  when  the  woman  asked,  "  "Who 
is  he  ?  "  nor  did  the  man  reply  immediately.  Drawing 
off  his  striped  mittens  and  putting  them  on  a  little 
stand  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  he  placed  his  over- 
coat upon  them,  then  laid  his  hat  on  the  top  of  that. 
Then  he  turned  to  Jotham. 

"  "What  did  j'ou  say  your  name  was  ?  " 

"  Jotham  "Wilson,  sir." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  I  remember.  You  see,  Betsey,"  he 
continued,  turning  to  his  wife,  "  I  found  the  fellow  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill.  He  haint  had  any  supper,  and  he's 
nowhere  to  go,  and,  as  he  helped  me  out  of  that  con- 
founded scrape,  I  thought  I'd  oughter  bring  him 
home." 

"  It's  just  like  you,  Enoch  Higglesey,"  returned  the 
woman.  "  Just  as  though  I  hadn't  enough  to  do  with- 
out waiting  upon  other  people." 

•'  Oh,  you  needn't  wait  upon  him,  Betsey.  Just  git  a 
plate  and  let  him  sit  right  down  here  and  share  our 
grub.  If  it's  good  enough  for  us,  it's  good  enough  for 
him." 

"  Git  a  plate  yourself,"  returned  the  woman,  as  she 


58  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

went  for  a  dish,  into  which  she  poured  the  mixture  she 
had  been  stirring. 

Quietly  the  man  went  to  the  cup-board,  from  which 
he  soon  brought  a  plate,  a  knife  and  fork,  and  a  cup 
and  saucer. 

"  There,  Betsey,"  he  said ;  "  make  a  place  here." 

The  woman  obeyed,  and  then  went  herself  for  a 
chair.  Her  first  irritation  seemed  to  have  subsided, 
and  she  poured  a  cup  of  tea  for  the  young  guest  quite 
graciously,  then  turned  to  her  husband. 

"  Didn't  you  know  any  better  than  to  tip  over,  Enoch 
Iligglesey  ?  " 

"No,  Betsey,  it's  a  fact,  I  didn't.  The  horses  just 
got  the  upper  hand  of  me,  and  the  whole  thing  went 
over  smash.  If  t  hadn't  been  for  this  boy  I  wouldn't 
got  out  till  this  time." 

"And  so  you've  got  to  pay  for  mendin'  the  har- 
nesses ?  "  she  queried. 

"  Yes,  that's  just  the  worst  on't." 

"  I  should  think  so,  Enoch  Higglesey.  It's  just  pay 
out,  pay  out,  all  the  time,  this  fall." 

"  Wall,  I  know  it,  Betsey,  but  I  can't  help  it.  Here, 
give  the  boy  some  of  this  puddin'." 

The  woman  dipped  out  some  of  the  mixture,  and 
handed  it  to  Joth^ra.    It  was  a  "  hasty -pudding,"  made 


•rnE    CROOK   STRAIGHTENED.  59 

of  corn-meal  atid  water.  It  was  hot,  and  as  she  poured 
molasses  over  it,  Jotham  took  it.  At  home,  he  would 
have  disdained  such  a  supper;  but  now  he  was  so  hun- 
gry that  anything  seemed  good.  The  hot  tea  was 
delicious,  although  it  was  not  strong  and  was  sweet- 
ened with  coarse  brown  sugar.  Not  the  lemonade  or 
beer  with  which  George  Thompson  used  to  regale  him 
in  their  palmy  days  was  ever  sweeter  to  his  taste. 

When  the  supper  was  finished,  Mr.  Higglesey  arose 
and  relighted  the  lantern,  saying,  "  Come,  boy." 

Jotham  would  fain  have  lingered  longer  at  the  table, 
for  it  seemed  that  he  was  but  half  satisfied ;  but  his 
judgment  told  him  that  he  had  eaten  as  much  as  pro- 
priety would  allow,  and,  rising,  he  followed  Mr.  Hig- 
glesey to  the  bam.  If  he  had  already  earned  his  supper 
by  his  labors  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  he  bade  fair  to  pay 
for  it  a  second  time  at  the  barn.  Por  half  an  hour  he 
worked  incessantly,  running  hither  and  thither,  mixing 
meal  with  watea*  for  the  fatting  oxen,  feeding  the  cosset 
sheep,  combing  and  brushing  the  horses,  carrying  and 
emptying  the  meal  which  had  just  been  brought  home, 
and  putting  everything  in  order  for  the  night. 

Mr.  Higglesey  inwardly  congratulated  himself  that 
he  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  bring  home  the  boy. 

"  I'll  git  done  twice  as  soon  as  common,"  he  mused. 


60  THE   CROOK  STRAIOHTENED. 

"  I  declare,  it's  better  that  his  young  legs  should  run 
than  my  old  ones,  that  have  been  going  nigh  on  to  sixty 
years.    I'll  jest  tell  Betsey  so." 

When  all  was  done,  they  locked  the  barn  and  went 
into  the  house.  Jotham  thought  of  the  night  previous 
when  he  was  locked  inside  with  no  bed  but  the  hay. 
Surely  this  night  was  better,  for,  though  the  people 
were  gruff  and  uncongenial,  their  house  afforded  hira 
shelter,  their  large  fire  warmed  his  chilled  limbs,  their 
supper  nourished  him,  and  their  bed  would  refresh 
him.  Therefore  he  was  grateftil,  and  went  back  into 
the  kitchen  with  a  contented  heart. 

The  table  was  clear  of  dishes  now,  and  the  large 
woman  sat  by  the  stove  knitting.  A  tallow  candle 
stood  on  a  small  stand  near,  and  a  weekly  newspaper 
lay  by  it.  Mr.  Higglesey  hung  his  hat  upon  a  peg  in 
the  back  part  of  the  room,  and  bade  Jotham  do  the 
same. 

"  Now,  boy,"  said  he,  "sit  down  by  i;he  stove  there 
and  git  warm.    I'm  going  to  take  a  smoke." 

Back  of  the  stove  there  was  a  door  opening  into  a 
brick  oven  formerly  used  for  family  baking,  but  now 
supplanted  by  the  more  convenient  stove.  Mr.  Hig- 
glesey opened  this  door,  and,  drawing  his  chair  near  to 
it,  sat  down.    Two  or  three  clay  pipes  lay  in  the  oven's 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  61 

mouth,  and  a  small  box  of  tobacco.  Jotham  watched 
as  Mr.  Higglesey  cut  the  tobacco  into  bits,  with  which 
he  filled  the  pipe. 

"  Jest  bring  me  a  coal,"  said  the  smoker  to  Jotham. 
"  There's  the  tongs  in  that  box." 

Jotham  stared  a  little  at  this  strange  request,  but 
immediately  obeyed,  and  the  old  man,  taking  the  tongs 
in  his  right  hand  and  the  pipe  in  his  left,  placed  the 
stem  of  the  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  rested  the  red  coal  on 
the  top  of  the  tobacco  in  the  bowl.  When  the  tobacco 
was  fairly  lighted,  he  called  Jotham  to  take  away  the 
tongs,  turned  his  face  toward  the  oven  that  the  smoke 
might  escape  up  the  flue,  and  then  pufifed  as  though  in 
the  midst  of  the  most  serene  enjoyments.  Jotham  sat 
thinking.  The  warmth  of  the  fire  made  him  sleepy,  and 
a  sense  of  his  actual  weariness  oppressed  him.  He 
had  passed  through  so  many  changes  during  the  last 
two  days  that  he  could  scarcely  realize  his  own  feel- 
ings. 

•'  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  taking  the  pipe  from 
his  mouth  and  chucking  down  the  half-smoked  tobacco 
with  the  end  of  his  forefinger,  "  I  have  to  sit  here  so 
the  smoke  may  go  up  the  cbimne}',  for  my  wife's  so 
delicate  she  can't  bear  the  smell  of  tobacco." 

Juthain  felt  a  smile  rising  at  the  idea  of  the  delicacy 


62  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

of  that  robust  woman ;  but  he  quickly  suppressed  it 
and  she  immediately  replied,  — 

"  Well,  there's  no  use  in  mincing  the  matter.  I  do 
hate  tobacco-smoke,  and  that's  the  long  and  the  short 
of  it.  If  I  had  my  way  there'd  never  be  a  leaf  of  the 
tobacco  raised." 

"  It's  a  good  thing,"  replied  the  man,  "  that  you  can't 
always  have  your  way.  'Twould  be  a  queer  world  if 
you  could." 

"  I'd  straighten  some  things,  I  know,"  she  replied, 
with  an  energetic  snap  of  her  needles. 

"  I  reckon  you  would,"  replied  the  husband.  "  You'd 
be  bigger  than  the  Lord  himself.  I  should  hate  to  be 
under  you.  But  come,  this  boy's  tired ;  show  him  his 
bed." 

Mrs.  Higglesey  laid  down  her  knitting,  apparently 
acquiescing  in  the  reasonableness  of  this  command. 
Since  her  first  rude  reception  of  Jotham  she  had  been 
quite  civil  to  him.  Perhaps  his  handsome  face  had  won 
her,  or  perhaps  she  really  had  no  special  objection  to 
keeping  him,  only  that  her  rough  nature  must  manifest 
itself.  Taking  the  candle  in  her  hand,  she  bade  tlie 
boy  follow  her,  leaving  Mr.  Higglesey  and  his  pipe  in 
the  dark.  Up  a  flight  of  narrow  back  >tairs  slie  went, 
turning  at  the  top  to  caution  Jothum  not  to  hit  his  head 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  63 

against  a  beam  which  jutted  down  so  low  that  every 
grown  person  must  stoop  in  passing  under  it. 

At  the  top  of  these  stairs  there  was  a  small  chamber, 
in  which  were  a  bed,  a  chair,  and  a  pine  table.  The 
place  was  not  very  inviting.  It  was  not  lilie  the  boy's 
neat  chamber  at  home,  to  which  he  ascended  over  his 
mother's  nicely  carpeted  stairs.  In  that  chamber  there 
were  pictures  hanging  on  the  walls,  a  pretty  chamber- 
set,  a  carpet,  a  stove,  and  books.  Here  there  was 
nothing ;  and,  as  the  woman  was  fearful  he  might  set 
the  house  on  lire,  she  told  him  she  would  wait  outside 
until  he  could  spare  the  caudle.  Such  as  the  chamber 
was,  however,  satisfied  our  poor  self-outcast,  who, 
three  hours  before,  was  contemplating  plunging  into 
the  woods  to  lie  down  and  die.  Any  bed  was  accept- 
able to  him,  and  he  thanked  the  woman  with  a  smile 
that  won  her  heart.  When  she  returned  to  the  kitchen 
with  her  light  and  had  resumed  her  kuitting,  her  hus- 
band turned  to  her,  and  suddenly  remarked,  — 

"Betsey,  I've  got  an  idee !  " 

"  "Well,  what  is  it,  Enoch?" 

"Why,  I  think  I'd  better  keep  this  boy.  He's  a 
right  handy  fellow." 

"  Well,  what  of  that?  IIo'll  have  to  eat,  and  you'll 
have  to  pay  hlui.     'Twill  only  make  cost." 


64  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  Aud  what  if  it  does  ?  The  fact  is,  Betsey,  you  aud 
I  are  getting  old,  thongh  you  don't  seem  to  know  it.  ] 
can't  do  so  much  as  formerly.  I  used  to  Send  off  my 
men  in  the  fall,  and  then  I'd  go  through  the  wiutei 
alone ;  but  I  can't  do  it  now.    I  git  tired." 

"  Well,  what  of  it?    You  can't  afford  to  hire." 

"  I  know  I  can't  afford  to  pay  much.  — By  the  way,  I 
left  five  hundred  dollars  to-day  at  the  bank.  Okl 
Ryder  paid  me  at  last,  and  I  thought  'twas  best  to 
chuck  it  into  the  bank  as  quick  as  possible,  so  it  might 
be  ou  interest,  you  know.  —  But  about  this  boy ; 
I  might  pay  him  a  little,  you  see,  just  enough  to  pacify 
him,  aud  keep  him  this  winter  to  do  my  chores.  I 
reckon  he'd  work  cheap,  for  his  father  has  sent  him 
out  huntiu'  after  a  place,  aud  I  reckon  he'd  be  glad  of 
a  place  most  anywhere." 

"But  we'd  have  to  board  him,"  expostulated  Mrs. 
Higglesey. 

"  I  know  it ;  but  we  live  kind  o'  cheap  in  the  winter, 
you  know,  and  besides  there's  always  remnants  good 
enough  for  a  boy.  Of  course,  boys  can't  expect  every- 
thing. Aud  don't  j'ou  see,  Betsey,  besides  helping  me, 
he  could  help  you.  He  could  bring  in  your  wood  and 
water,  and  he'd  be  liere  when  I'm  gone,  so  he  could  tie 
up  tije  cows  aud  feed  the  pigs.    Then  you  could  lind 


TRE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  65 

time  to  knit  and  sew.    You  are  always  complainin'  for 
want  of  time." 

Mrs.  Higglesey  looked  straight  in  her  husband's 
eyes,  and  considered.  She  revolved  the  subject  in  all 
its  bearings,  and  having  Anally  satisfied  herself  that 
the  board  could  be  so  managed  as  to  cost  very  little, 
and  that  really  she  would  be  a  gainer  in  time,  she  con- 
sented to  the  proposal.  "  Provided,"  she  added,  "you 
don't  have  to  pay  him  too  much." 

With  this  conclusion,  the  couple  fastened  their  doors, 
shut  the  stove  to  make  the  fire  secure,  and  retired.        ' 
0 


TOE   CROOK  STBAIGRTENED, 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THANKSGIVING. 

fBADIAH ! "  said  Grandma  Wilson,  in  an  ex- 
cited manner,  not  many  days  after  the  decis- 
ion to  spend  Thanksgiving  with  the  famDy 
of  their  only  son. 

Mr.  Wilson  looked  np  as  the  old  lady  spoke.  She 
was  reading  a  letter  which  a  neighbor  had  kindly 
brought  from  the  village  post-oflace,  and  her  face  had 
grown  suddenly  pale. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Mr.  Wilson,  laying 
down  his  newspaper. 

"Such  trouble!"  she  replied.  "I  declare  I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  This  letter  is  from  Josiah's  wife, 
and  the  poor  woman  is  in  a  hard  situation.  I  won't 
wait  for  Thanksgiving,  —  I'll  go  right  down  now.  I'm 
sure  I  can  do  them  good." 

"But  what  is  the  matter?"  asked  grandfather, 
again.    "  You  haven't  told  me  yet." 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  67 

*'  No,  I  haven't.    "Well,  listen,  and  I'll  read.    Mary 

says,  — 

" '  Dear  Father  axd  Mother,  —  We  received  yonr 
very  welcome  letter,  saying  that  you  would  spend 
Thanksgiving  with  us.  Nothing  could  give  us  greater 
pleasure  were  we  as  we  have  been.  As  it  is,  we  are 
truly  walking  in  the  midst  of  troubles.  Annette  is 
very  HI ;  the  doctor  calls  it  brain  fever.  She  has  quite 
lost  her  reason,  talks  incoherently  sometimes;  at 
others,  of  Jotham,  begging  him  to  be  a  good  boy,  and 
imploring  him  not  to  go  to  sea.  But  this  is  not  our 
greatest  trouble.  We  could  view  this  as  a  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence  to  which  we  could  submit ;  but  we 
have  a  greater  sorrow,  —  Jotham  is  gone,  we  know  not 
where.  We  can  find  no  trace  of  him.  On  the  very 
day  that  Annette  was  taken  ill  he  disappeared.  His 
father  directed  him  to  go  to  school;  and  I  went  up- 
stairs to  Annette,  who  was  taken  with  a  headache  and 
chills.  When  I  came  down  again  Jotham  was  gone  to 
school,  as  I  supposed.  But  at  noon  he  did  not  come 
home,  and  Harry  said  he  had  not  been  at  school. 
Then  we  grew  anxious.  Night  came,  and  he  did  not 
come.  Annette's  illness  increased  and  we  sent  for  a 
physiciau.    By  the  next  day  she  was  dcl-rions.  and  in 


68  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

her  wUdness  she  beg^n  to  plead  with  Jotham  not  to  go 
to  sea.  We  have  not  yet  told  her  that  he  is  away,  but 
we  have  searched  the  city  for  him.  "We  have  been  to 
the  wharves  and  the  vessels.  No  one  has  seen  or 
heard  from  him.'" 

"  Strange ! "  interposed  the  old  gentleman,  as  the 
reader  paused  a  moment.  "  Strange  what  ails  that 
boy!  A  brighter,  smarter  boy  is  seldom  found.  A 
good  boy,  too,  when  under  good  influences ;  and  that's 
just  the  trouble,  I  do  believe.  It  is  just  because  he 
must  be  under  good  influences  in  order  to  be  good; 
for,  the  moment  the  influence  is  changed,  he  changes. 
He  seems  to  lack  a  balancing  power  within  himself. 
He  yields  to  others  too  easily.  He  ought  to  have  his 
own  thoughts  of  right  and  wrong,  and  within  himself 
to  have  an  independence  of  his  own." 

"I  am  sure,"  returned  grandmother,  "he  alwajs 
was  independent.  You  could  see  that  in  the  very 
manner  of  his  speaking.  He  always  had  a  lofty  bear- 
ing." 

"  He  had  a  swagger,"  returned  grandfather;  "  a  sort 
of  pompous  way  of  showing  ofi".  I  don't  call  it  inde- 
pendence, exactly.  It  was  rather  the  reverse  of  iudc- 
peudence,  for  it  showed  a  dependence  upon  the  good 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  69 

opinions  of  others.  He  wanted  to  be  thought  grand, 
therefore  he  tried  to  appear  so.  That  has  helped  to 
spoil  him,  because  when  bad  boys  came  around  him 
with  high-sounding  words,  he  wanted  to  be  just  as 
smart  as  they,  or  a  little  smarter.  Ah,  it  is  yielding  to 
bad  boys  that  has  ruined  him !  He  hadn't  moral  firm- 
ness enough  to  resist  them.  I  am  sure  he  does  not 
want  to  be  ugly.    It  is  not  his  nature." 

"But  what  shall  we  do?"  asked  grandmother. 
"  The  letter  goes  on  to  say  that  they  would  be  glad  to 
see  us  at  Thanksgiving,  but  fear  we  would  not  enjoy 
the  visit.  As  though  we  would  not  be  happy  in  trying 
to  sympathize  with  them !  I  tell  you,  father,  just  what 
I  think." 

".Well,  what  is  it?" 

"  Why,  I  ought  to  go  right  down  there  now,  and 
stay  till  Thanksgiving.  Then  you  could  come  after 
me." 

"  But  you  cannot  go  alone  in  the  cars  at  your  time 
of  life,  and  with  your  feeble  health." 

"  Yes,  I  can.  I  can  manage  just  as  well  as  you ;  and 
I  am  sure  I  can  do  good  there.  Only  think  how  I 
could  stay  by  Annette.  Dear  child!  I  long  to  be 
beside  her  now.  How  I  could  soothe  her,  and  bathe 
her  fevered  head !    And  then  what  a  comfort  I'd  be  to 


70  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Josiah  and  Mary!  Yon  coald  stay  here  alone  with 
Sally  Ann,  —  couldn't  you?" 

"  La,  yes !  I  could  stay  sdone  well  enough ;  but  I'm 
afraid  you  can't  go  alone  so  well  as  you  think." 

"  Why,  yes  I  can.  Haven't  I  been  there  many  times 
with  you  ?  I  know  every  crook  and  turn  of  the  way. 
I  can  go  alone  as  well  as  not." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  can.  At  any  rate  you  can  try. 
They  need  somebody  to  comfort  them,  that's  cer- 
tain." 

"  And  I'm  just  the  one  to  do  it.    Sally  Ann  I 

The  girl  heard  the  loud  call  and  came  in  from  the 
kitchen.         ^ 

"  Sally  Ann,  you  go  right  up  to  the  attic,  and  bring 
me  down  that  empty  trunk.  I'm  going  to  Jpsiah's  by 
the  first  train  to-morrow  morning." 

"Going  to  Josiah's,  Miss  Wilson?  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  Annette  is  dreadfbl  sick, 
and  I'm  going  to  see  her." 

"Annette  sick.  Miss  Wilson?  Well,  well!  She's  a 
good  child,  —  too  good  for  this  earth !  I  found  that  out 
last  summer.  How  she  bore  with  Jotham!  though 
sometimes  she'd  get  kind  of  out  of  patience  with  him, 
but  who  wouldn't?    Oh,  she  used  to  talk  so  pretty  to 


THE    CnOOK   STRAIGHTENED.  71 

him  !  Well,  I'm  afraid  shell  die.  Good  folks  always 
do  die." 

"Not  always,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilson.  "We'll  hope 
for  the  best.    Go  get  the  trunk." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  replied  the  girl,  hastening  up  to  the 
attic. 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone,  grandmother  said,  "You 
see  I  didn't  mention  Jotham.  There's  no  use  in  telling 
of  him.  'Twould  only  disgrace  him  in  the  minds  of 
people." 

"  Just  so,"  responded  grandfather.  "  We'll  keep 
quite  still,  and  may  be  the  boy'U  come  back.  I  can't 
believe  he's  gone  for  good.  He'll  find  he's  got  a  hard 
row  to  hoe  out  in  the  world,  taking  care  of  himself. 
He  doesn't  know  anything  about  work,  but  hell  have 
to  work  somewhere.  If  he's  gone  to  sea,  he'll  have 
a  tough  time." 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  grandmother.  "I  do  hope  he 
hasn't  gone  to  sea.    It's  dreadful  to  think  of." 

At  that  moment  Sally  Ann  returned  with  the  trunk, 
and  Mrs.  Wilson  arose  from  her  chair. 

"  I"ll  have  to  be  busy  to-day,  Sally  Ann.  I've  got  to 
leave  everything  in  your  care  while  I'm  gone ;  but  I'm 
sure  you'll  do  the  best  you  can." 

"That  I  will,JMiss  Wilson,  you  may  depend;  and  I 


72  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

reckon  I  know  how  pretty  well ;  I've  been  here  long 
enough." 

"  Yes,  you've  been  a  good  girl  here ;  I'm  not  afraid 
to  trust  you,  but  there's  a  good  deal  to  do  before 
Thanksgiving,  you  know,  always.  However,  butter- 
time's  about  over,  —  that's  one  good  thing." 

"  How  long  shall  you  stay,  Miss  Wilson?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  As  long  as  I  am  needed.  Father 
here'll  come  down  to  Thanksgiving,  and  if  the  dear 
child's  better,  maybe  I'U  come  home  then." 

Very  busy  was  the  old  lady  all  day.  Grandfather 
lent  his  assistance  in  all  her  plans,  and  they  did  not 
forget  that  though  Jotham  was  away,  and  Annette  ill, 
there  was  one  left  to  be  made  happy.  Many  good 
things  went  into  the  trunk  for  Harry,  and  many  little 
delicacies  for  the  sick  were  packed  there  also,  for 
grandmother  said,  "There's  no  knowing  what  may 
be  wanted." 

The  morning  came,  and  the  resolute  old  lady  went. 
Mr.  Wilson  carried  her  to  the  depot,  and  returned  to 
his  home  alone.  He  sat  down  by  his  bright  fire  with 
his  newspaper,  and  read  till  he  could  find  nothing  more. 
The  markets,  the  stocks,  the  general  news,  and  even 
the  advertisements  passed  under  his  scrutiny.  Then 
he  folded  his  paper,  sat  back  in  his  arm-chair,  and 


TME  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  73 

looked  at  the  low  rocking-chair  standing  empty  in  the 
opposite  corner.  He  thought  of  the  many  years  he 
had  seen  the  fair,  round  face  of  his  partner  smiling 
from  that  seat  as  it  was  drawn  up  before  the  fire  while 
her  busy  fingers  knitted  the  socks ;  and  now  the  house 
seemed  empty.  He  hardly  knew  what  to  do.  He  took 
off  his  spectacles  and  polished  them  the  third  time, 
called  the  cat  and  stroked  her  far  in  token  of  her  mis- 
tress, stirred  the  fire  six  times,  yawned,  dozed,  and 
yawned  again,  and  finally  walked  to  the  window. 

"  I  do  declare ! "  he  said  to  himself.  "  The  house  is 
still  as  the  grave,  except  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  and 
that  seems  like  the  knell  of  time  ticking  off  the  fatal 
strokes  that  are  never  to  return.  It  will  tick  me  to  the 
grave  pretty  soon.  Well,  let  it  come.  There's  another 
life  beyond  the  bounds  of  time.  "While  I  do  live  in 
this  world,  I  will  do  the  best  I  can,  and  that  is  all  God 
requires  of  us.  I  believe  I'll  go  down  to  Mr.  Hanson's ; 
Julia'll  want  to  know  about  Annette." 

Very  soon  the  old  gentleman  was  walking  down  the 
street,  assisted  by  his  stout  cane,  and,  as  he  came  into 
Mr.  Hanson's  kitchen  he  received  a  warm  welcome, 
but  Julia  was  shocked  at  the  tale  he  told  her. 

"Poor  Annette!"  she  said,  "I'm  so  sorry  she's 
sick." 


74  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Grandfather  wanted  to  speak  of  Jotham.  He  was 
yearning  for  sympathy  concerning  the  wayward  boy ; 
but  by  a  great  effort  he  suppressed  his  inclination. 

"  I'll  come  down  and  see  you,  Mr.  Wilson,"  said 
Julia.  "  You'll  be  very  lonely  without  grandmother. 
Why,  I  never  knew  her  go  away  without  you." 

"No,  she  never  did,"  replied  the  old  man;  "  and  I 
tell  you,  even  the  cat  misses  her." 

Before  the  week  closed  Mr.  Wilson  had  visited 
every  neighbor  within  his  reach,  and  at  each  place  he 
received  a  ready  condolence.  All  respected  him,  and 
now  they  strove  to  cheer  him.  The  men  came  to  sit 
with  him  evenings,  and  the  women  seat  frequent  in- 
quiries to  know  whether  he  was  comfortable  and 
whether  he  had  heard  from  Annette. 

This  journey  was  a  great  event  In  the  life  of  old  Mrs. 
Wilson.  It  seemed  to  her  a  vast  responsibility  to 
take  charge  of  herself  and  trunk  in  the  hurrying  cars ; 
but  she  was  willing  to  do  anything  for  the  comfort  of 
the  aflaicted  family.  All  the  way  her  heart  was  full  of 
sympathy,  and  she  longed  to  be  there.  Yet,  when  the 
journey  was  ended,  when  the  surprise  and  joy  of  her 
reception  was  over,  and  she  stood  beside  Annette's 
bed,  she  was  sadder  than  before.  She  had  not  an- 
ticipated so  great  a  change  In  her  darling. 


THE   CnOOK  STnAIGHTENED.  75 

Annette  lay  with  her  lips  parted,  her  short  breath 
coming  and  going  in  thick,  hot  respirations,  her  silky 
hair  cut  close  to  her  head,  and  her  eyes  wandering  in 
unconsciousness. 

"  Poor  child ! "  said  grandmother,  taking  her  thin, 
bnrning  hand  in  hers,  while  tears  dropped  upon  her 
cheeks.  "  Poor  child !  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  so 
low.  You  don't  know  me,  —  do  you  ?  No,  you  do  not 
even  know  I'm  here.  May  the  Lord  be  with  you  and 
bring  you  up  again  1 " 

With  this  prayer  in  her  heart,  grandmother  drew  a 
chair  to  the  bed,  and  there  she  installed  herself. 

"  Now,  Mary,"  she  said  to  the  mother,  "  you  must 
go  away  and  rest.  You  look  all  worn  out.  Just  tell 
me  about  the  medicine,  and  I'll  stay  here." 

Mrs.  Wilson  quietly  yielded  to  her  mother-in-law. 
She  felt  that  she  could  perfectly  rely  upon  her  judicious 
care,  and,  with  a  grateful  "  thank  you,"  she  soon  left 
the  room  to  seek  the  rest  which  during  many  days  had 
been  denied  her. 

Grandmother  watched  every  movement  of  the  suffer- 
ing girl ;  bathed  her  face,  her  hands,  and  head ;  moist- 
ened her  parched  lips,  and  soon  became  established 
OS  her  principal  nurse.    The  doctor  was  quite  satisfied 


76  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

with  the  arrangement,  for  he  saw  that  the  old  lady 
knew  well  the  necessities  of  the  invalid. 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  grandmother  mused,  as  she 
sat  quietly  by  the  bed,  —  "it  is  very  strange  that 
Annette  should  get  this  fever.  A  rosy-cheeked, 
healthy  girl  like  her  could  not  have  taken  so  violent  a 
cold,  except  through  carelessness.  Why  can't  young . 
people  be  more  careful  of  their  health  ?  Poor  thing !  I 
do  hope  she'll  get  well  again.  How  she'll  feel  when 
she  knows  Jotham  is  gone !  " 

Nothing  was  said  of  Jotham  in  Annette's  room,  but 
when  Mr.  Wilson  came  in  at  night,  after  his  mother's 
arrival,  the  old  lady  resigned  her  post  by  the  bed,  and 
went  out  to  see  him.  They  sat  together  a  long  time, 
and  Mr.  Wilson  gave  her  an  account  of  Jotham  more 
detailed  than  had  been  written  in  the  letter. 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  grandmother  said.  "  When 
he  came  from  our  house,  last  summer,  I  did  think  he 
had  decidedly  reformed.  I  thought  he  would  be  a  good 
boy,  and  he  is  so  handsome  and  proud,  that  I  rejoiced 
you  had  so  noble  a  son." 

Mr.  Wilson  sighed.  "  I  thought  he  was  doing  well. 
I  don't  know  but  I  did  wrong  myself.  I  ought  to  have 
inquired  more  particularly  into  his  conduct.  He  went 
to  school,  stood  high  in  his  class,  and  I  did  not  con- 


THE  CROOK  stuaightened.  77 

sider  that  there  might  be  unseen  dangers.  I  declare, 
it  came  upon  me  like  a  cold  shower-bath  when  the 
police-officer  told  me  he  was  ib  the  lock-up." 

"  In  the  lock-up,  Josiah !    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Didn't  Mary  write  you  about  it?  " 

"  Not  a  word." 

"  She  didn't  feel  like  it,  I  suppose.  Between  Jotham 
and  Annette,  her  heart  is  almost  broken.  "Well,  I'll 
tell  you.  We  were  all  feeling  secure  about  Jotham ;  he 
had  been  a  good  boy,  apparently,  all  the  fall,  when 
suddenly,  one  morning,  a  police-officer  called  and  told 
me  that  he  had  been  caught  the  night  before  stealing 
apples  from  the  garden  of  an  old  lady  a  little  way  out. 
That  shocked  me,  I  can  assure  you." 

"  But,  Josiah,  was  it  really  true  ?  Did  he  really 
steal  the  apples  ?  " 

"Yes,  mother,  he  was  really  caught  beside  the 
garden-fence,  with  a  bag  partly  filled  witlathe  frait. 
I  paid  the  old  lady  twenty-five  dollars." 

"Poor  Jotham!"  said  grandmother.  "What  could 
tempt  him?" 

"Well,  I  suppose  those  Thompson  boys  tempted 
him.  I  had  frequently  forbidden  him  their  company, 
but  their  influence  over  him  was  greater  than  mine, 
and  I  suppose  he  did  go  with  them  secretly.    They 


78  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

were  in  the  tree  picking  the  apples,  when  Jotham  was 
caught  with  the  bag  outside,  and  they  escaped." 

"  When  was  this?  "  asked  grandmother. 

"  It  was  just  a  day  before  he  left  us.  I  suppose  that 
is  the  reason  he  went  away.  I  reprimanded  him.  I 
felt  that  he  needed  it  and  deserved  it.  My  patience 
was  utterly  worn  with  him.  He  had  been  repeatedly 
forbidden  to  go  with  those  boys,  yet  he  not  only  went, 
but  must  disgrace  himself  by  joining  them  in  robbing 
fruit-trees.  I  declare,  I  never  felt  so  badly  about 
anything;  I  could  hardly  keep  at  my  business.  I  felt 
disgraced.  To  think  that  Jotham  should  go  from  a 
home  of  comfort,  where  he  had  been  taught  to  know 
better,  and  stealthily  join  such  boys,  and  then  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  police,  was  more  than  I  could 
endure.    He  deserved  reproof,  and  he  got  it." 

As  Mr.  WUson  rehearsed  his  son's  conduct  to  his 
mother,  his  eyes  flashed  and  his  anger  roused.  Evi- 
dently, if  Jotham  had  been  present,  he  would  have 
received  another  rebuke.  The  kind  old  mother  looked 
steadily  into  the  face  of  her  son  some  minutes,  then 
addressed  him  again. 

"  Josiah,  you  know  I  used  to  tell  you  that  I  thought 
you  were  too  harsh  with  him.  He  could  not  be  driven 
so  well  as  some  boys.    Different  people  have  different 


TME   CROOK  STJIAIGHTENED.  79 

dispositions.  Hany  can  be  ordered  and  he  will  obey, 
and  Annette  scarcely  needs  directing;  but  Jotham's 
impulsive  nature  requires  tact.  He  must  be  drawn  by 
love  and  moulded  by  affection.  Noble  motives  must 
be  set  before  him.  A  high  aim  must  be  given 
him." 

"You  tried  that,  mother.  You  offered  him  prizes 
for  his  lessons  at  school  and  for  his  good  conduct, 
and  he  was  very  boastful  of  his  ability  to  obtain  those 
prizes.    Yet  you  see  they  failed  of  keeping  him," 

"Well,  Josiah,  I  hardly  expected  to  be  successful 
at  first.  I  wanted  to  test  him,  and  you  see  his  ambi- 
tion was  stimulated,  by  having  an  aim,  for  a  time. 
But,  of  course,  he  wearied  of  restraint.  Had  I  ])een 
with  liim,  when  I  saw  that  weariness  coming,  I  would 
have  devised  a  recreation  that  would  be  harmless, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  refresh  his  ardent  mind.  He 
couldn't  be  quiet  like  Harry,  and  I  would  have 
watched  every  change  in  him,  and  would  have  adapted 
my  advice  to  his  necessities." 

"  But  I  couldn't  spare  time  for  such  things,  mother. 
I  must  be  at  my  business." 

"  But  you  have  your  evenings." 

"Yes,  I  have  those;  but  that  is  nearly  all  the  time 


80  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

I  have  for  reading  my  papers  or  anything  of  that 
kind." 

"  But,  Josiah,  if  you  had  relinquished  partly  your 
own  pleasure,  and  sought  happiness  by  studying  the 
needs  of  your  children,  you  might  have  been  spared 
this  trouble." 

Mr.  Wilson  did  not  reply.  He  realized  the  force 
of  his  mother's  reasoning,  and  was  somewhat  con- 
science-stricken, but  yet  was  unwilling  to  admit  that 
he  had  been  in  error.  He  sat  quite  silent,  thinking 
of  the  past,  and  wondering  whether  he  could  have 
taken  another  course  with  his  son.  At  length  the 
mother  asked,  — 

'•  Have  you  made  a  thorough  search?  " 

"I  have  done  everything  but  advertise.  After 
Annette  grew  delirious  and  pleaded  with  him  not  to 
go  to  sea,  I  visited  every  ship  in  the  city." 

*'  Hadn't  you  better  advertise  ?  " 

"No;  I'll  not  publish  my  disgrace  in  that  way. 
He  may  go.  He  will  have  to  get  his  own  living,  and 
perhaps  that  will  do  him  good." 

"Poor  boy!"  sighed  grandmother.  "I  hope  he 
isn't  suffering." 

"Let  him  suffer,"  replied  Mr.  Wilson,  his  indigna- 
tion again  rising.     "He  causes  us  to  suffer.    He  has 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  81 

brought  sorrow  and  anguish  to  his  home;  let  him 
feel  anguish  himself.  He  is  breaking  his  mother's 
heart;  let  his  own  breali.    It  will  do  him  good." 

"Don't,"  said  the  mother,  deprecatingly ;  "don't 
speak  so  harshly.  Be  pitiful  towards  him.  He  may 
come  home  to-night.  Who  knows?  He  will  not 
find  life  among  strangers  very  easy,  and  distress  may 
drive  him  home.  Keceive  him  kindly  if  he  comes. 
Let  not  your  severity  drive  him  to  despair,  lest  you 
injure  where  you  would  do  good.  Love,  my  son,  was 
the  cord  which  reared  you;  love  is  the  great  bond 
of  the  world.    God  is  love." 

Grandmother  soon  returned  to  Annette's  room, 
leaving  the  father  thinking;  but  he  was  too  truly 
angry  with  Jotham  to  think  with  a  right  spirit. 
His  pride  of  character  had  been  touched.  It  seemed 
a  disgrace,  not  to  be  wiped  out,  that  Jotham  should 
conduct  as  he  had,  and  this  last  crime  of  leaving 
home  so  unceremoniously  seemed  not  less  than  the 
other.  The  boy,  in  his  distant  refUge,  judged  his 
father  with  an  unerring  sagacity. 

Faithfully,  day    after   day,  grandmother   watched 

over  Annette,  and,   after   a   time,  her   labors   were 

rewarded.    The  fever  subsided,  and  the  girl  slowly 

returned  to  consciousness.     She  was  weak  and  ex- 

6 


82  THE    CROOK  STRAianTENED. 

hausted,  but  her  eye  assumed  something  of  its  natu- 
ral expression,  and  she  spoke  rationally. 

"I  thank  the  Lord,"  said  grandmother.  "I  will 
write  home  and  tell  her  grandfather.  He  will  be 
so  happy  to  know  it." 

Some  days  elapsed  before  Annette  inquired  for 
Jotham  or  Harry,  and  then  she  received  an  evasive 
reply.  They  feared  to  excite  her,  and  grandmother 
hoped  that  Jotham  would  soon  return. 

"He  cannot  live  away,"  the  old  lady  reasoned. 
•'So  tenderly  as  he  has  been  reared,  how  can  he 
endure  the  coldness  of  strangers?  How  can  he  get 
food  and  shelter  just  as  the  winter  is  coming  on?" 

The  day  before  Thanksgiving  grandfather  left  his 
desolate  home  and  came  to  his  loved  ones.  He 
could  hardly  wait  for  the  day  or  the  hours,  he  was 
in  so  great  haste  to  go ;  yet  when  he  came,  and  they 
asked  him  whether  he  had  been  lonely,  he  answered 
with  an  evasive  smile,  — 

"Lonely!  Pshaw!  Never  was  so  contented  in 
my  life.  Things  stayed  where  they  were  put.  Didn't 
get  bothered  with  a  woman's  tongue  always  rattling. 
It's  fun  to  live  alone,     But  how's  Annette?" 

"Oh,  she's  better,  ever  ^9  much   better.     When 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  83 

you  get  warm,  you  must  go  in  and  see  her.  She 
sat  up  nearly  an  hour,  yesterday." 

Thanksgiving  morning  came,  and  if  the  aged  visit- 
ors were  not  in  a  home  of  so  much  hilarity  as  they 
had  anticipated  when  they  first  proposed  this  visit, 
yet  there  was  certainly  a  quiet  happiness  in  the 
household,  for  though  the  truant  was  still  away, 
Annette  was  alive,  and  gave  promise  of  recovery. 
So,  in  the  midst  of  sorrow,  they  yet  had  joy. 

Annette  sat  bolstered  up  to  eat  her  slight  breakfast, 
and  when  she  had  finished  she  begged  to  see  Jotham 
and  Harry.  Then  they  gently  told  her  that  only  Harry 
could  come,  and,  after  consultation,  they  told  her  that 
Jotham  was  gone,  they  knew  not  where,  and  asked 
her  if  she  could  imagine  where  he  might  be.  For  a 
moment  she  gazed  upon  them  wildly,  and  they  feared 
a  relapse  of  her  delirium,  but  suddenly  pressing  her 
head  between  her  hands  as  though  to  force  thought, 
she  answered,  — 

"  Gone  to  sea,  gone  to  sea." 

"In  what  vessel?"  eagerly  asked  the  father.  "I 
have  inquired  everywhere." 

'*  I  don't  know,  father,  but  oh !  on  that  night  he  told 
me  he  should  go  and  should  never  come  home  again." 

"  On  what  night,  Annette?    What  do  you  mean?" 


84  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  The  night  I  followed  him ;  I 
led  him  home,  and  where  have  I  been  since?  I  was 
so  cold  when  I  came  home,  —  oh,  so  cold !  —  and  then  1 
went  out  of  the  cold  into  fire  I " 

They  stood  around  her  astonished,  and  she  thought 
again. 

"  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  tell,"  she  murmured.  *'  "Well, 
I  didn't  tell,  but  if  he's  gone  again,  my  father  ought  to 
know.  Yes,  father,  he  went  out  in  the  cold  night,  and 
I  followed  him.  I  found  him  behind  the  square  rock, 
and  I  stayed  there  a  long  time,  and  I  had  no  bonnet 
nor  cloak.  He  came  home,  and  I  promised  not  to  tell. 
I  wouldn't  have  told  if  he  had  kept  his  word.  The 
next  morning  I  had  a  headache  and  couldn't  get  up. 
I  haven't  seen  him  since." 

"  And  that  was  the  very  morning  he  left,"  said  the 
mother,  in  a  despairing  tone.  "Oh,  where  is  he? 
where  is  he  ?  " 

Annette  lay  back  with  a  groan,  and  she  sat  up  no' 
more  that  day.  He  was  gone  beyond  her  reach.  She 
was  powerless,  and  through  the  long  days  in  which 
she  slowly  recovered,  she  revolved  all  the  incidents 
of  that  night  and  then  often  said,  — 

"  He  has  gone  to  sea.  Poor  Jotham  I  If  I  could 
only  get  him  back  again." 


THE  CROOK  STBAIGHTENED.  85 


CHAPTER  V. 

FIRST    TRIAL    AT    WORK, 


'OTHAM  was  too  tired  to  fall  immediately  to 
'^  sleep.  His  whole  system  seemed  in  pain.  Two 
days  and  a  night  of  exposure  to  November 
winds  and  cold,  without  food,  had  thoroughly  exhaust- 
ed him.  Besides,  the  bed  on  which  he  lay  was  harder 
than  his  own  at  home,  and  seemed  chilled,  like  a  bed 
long  unused.  He  turned  and  thought.  There  was  no 
curtain  at  the  window,  and  when  he  looked  up  a  few 
faint  stars  seemed  mocking  him  in  the  distance. 

Then  he  thought  of  Joseph,  sent  away  from  a  good 
place  on  a  false  accusation,  "  and  all  for  me,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  I  wish  I  hadn't  touched  the  apple.  It 
wasn't  mine, —  I  had  no  right  to  it.  What  if  I  did  leave 
a  cent  to  pay  for  it?  How  do  I  know  the  man  wanted 
to  sell  it?  I  had  no  right  to  buy  his  property  without 
his  leave.  Oh,  dear !  What  a  bad  boy  I  have  been ! 
What  will  become  of  me  ?    What  shall  I  do  ?    Annette 


86  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

used  to  tell  me  to  pray.  Grandmother  told  me  to 
pray.  But  I  can't  pray  now.  I'm  too  wicked.  I  wish 
I  could  go  to  sleep." 

But  it  was  long  ere  he  could  sleep.  There  was  too 
much  pain  in  his  limbs  to  permit  unconsciousness 
even  if  his  mind  had  been  at  rest,  and  as  the  hours 
dragged  along,  thought  became  more  intense. 

"  I  couldn't  be  good  now  if  I  should  try,"  he  mused; 
"  I've  done  so  much  that  is  bad.  I  wonder  what  these 
people  think  of  me.  I  wonder  what  kind  of  people 
they  are.  How  queer  they  seem !  First  they're  cross, 
then  good-natured.  I  thought  the  woman  was  going 
to  turn  me  out  at  first,  but  then  she  grew  quite  good, 
and  said  good-night  when  she  took  my  candle.  Well, 
I  don't  know  what  will  become  of  me,  but  father  said 
I  ought  to  work,  and  I  suppose  I  must." 

The  tall  clock  in  the  kitchen  struck  twelve,  and  then 
one,  before  the  boy  was  quieted.  At  last,  sleep  came, 
and  troubles  were  for  the  time  forgotten.  Gentle 
slumber,  which  gives  respite  to  the  weary,  careworn 
brain,  rested  quietly  on  the  lids  of  the  wayward  boy. 
Shall  we  say  that  because  he  had  done  wrong  no 
angels  watched  him?  Does  God  withdraw  his  care 
from  us  because  in  our  weakness  we  err  and  fall  into 
sin?    Bather  let  us   believe  that  angels  watch  the 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  87 

wicked  as  well  as  the  good,  waiting  for  signs  of  re- 
pentance that  they  may  carry  joyful  news  on  high. 

For  a  few  hours  Jotham  slept ;  but  Enoch  Higglesey 
was  an«early  riser.  During  more  than  fifty  years,  ever 
since  he  could  remember  in  his  earliest  childhood,  he 
had  been  a  votary  to  work.  Early  and  late  his  hands 
were  busy,  and  during  all  those  years  he  had  risen  at 
four  o'clock.  His  motto  was  "  early  to  bed  and  early 
to  rise."  "When  the  ancient  bell  of  the  brass  clock 
pealed  out  four  strokes,  the  master  of  the  house 
stepped  on  to  the  floor.  He  never  waited,  never  lin- 
gered a  moment,  saying,  "  A  little  more  slumber," 
although  since  he  had  grown  old,  nature  sometimes 
suggested  that  a  little  more  rest  would  certainly  be 
very  comfortable. 

His  first  work  in  winter  was  always  to  fill  the  capa- 
cious kitchen  stove  with  wood ;  his  next  to  proceed  to 
the  barn,  where  there  was  never  any  lack  of  employ- 
ment. As  he  was  kindling  his  fire  this  morning,  the 
idea  occurred  to  him  that  it  was  a  morning  of  unusual 
activity,  and  that  a  little  help  would  be  a  great  con- 
venience. This  was  always  Mr.  Higglesey's  thought 
if  any  one  was  in  the  house  who  could  be  pressed  into 
service.  He  could  work  day  after  day  alone  rather 
than  pay  for  assistance,  but  neither  friend  nor  stranger 


88  THE   CROOK   STRAIGHTENED. 

could  visit  him  without  being  called  into  requisition 
for  some  purpose. 

"  Now  that  boy  is  just  what  I  want,"  he  said  to  him- 
self as  he  packed  the  wood  into  the  stove.  "  f'U  just 
call  him  up." 

Leaving  the  stove  he  rushed  up  the  stairs,  and  began 
to  thump ;  but  Jotham  was  too  far  gone  to  be  roused. 
Mr.  Higglesey  stooped  to  avoid  the  beam,  and  ascended 
to  the  chamber-door  which  Jie  opened. 

"  Holloa,  here  I "  he  called ;  but  there  was  no  reply. 

*'  Holloa,  I  say !  "  and  then  some  more  thumps  on  the 
ceiling  made  so  much  rattling  that  the  wearied  boy 
turned  and  groaned. 

"Holloa,  I  tell  ye,  you  young  sleepy-head!"  thun- 
dered the  man.  "  Can't  ye  wake  up?  What  ye  made 
of?" 

Jotham  opened  his  eyes  with  a  wondering  stare,  and 
the  man  continued,  — 

"Come,  come,  youngster,  wake  up  here.  Come 
down  and  help  me.  I've  work  enough  for  half  a  dozen. 
What's  the  use  to  sleep  your  life  away?  " 

It  was  some  minutes  before  Jotham  could  fully  com- 
prehend where  he  was,  or  what  was  wanted.  But  at 
length  his  situation  flashed  into  his  mind,  and  with  a 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED .  89 

deep  sigh,  he  answered,  "Yes,  sir,  I'll  come  right 
down." 

"Wall,  make  haste,"  returned  the  man,  descending 
the  stairs. 

Jotham  followed  as  soon  as  possible,  and  when  he 
reached  the  kitchen  he  found  Mr.  Higglesey  was  stand- 
ing with  his  lantern  lighted,  an  old  hat  on  his  head, 
and  striped  mittens  on  his  hands.  Besides,  he  was 
enveloped  in  a  stout  farmer's  frock.  He  looked  warm 
and  comfortable,  and,  as  they  stepped  out  at  the  door, 
he  felt  no  shivers  from  the  cold  morning  wind.  But 
Jotham  had  no  'mittens,  and  his  soft  nice  school  suit 
was  rather  too  thin  for  so  much  exposure.  In  addition 
to  that  he  was  not  half  rested,  and,  as  he  followed  the 
stout  old  farmer  to  the  bam,  his  teeth  chattered,  and 
chills  crawled  through  his  veins. 

"  I've  got  to  go  to  town  this  morning,"  the  farmer 
remarked,  putting  the  key  into  the  barn-door.  "  I 
promised  Marston,  the  storekeeper  up  there,  a  load  of 
oats,  and  he  wants  'em  to  send  off.  He  thinks  he's 
made  a  good  thing  out  of  my  trade,  but  he'll  find,  I 
reckon,  that  I'm  enough  for  him.  Holloa,  here,  Tom 
and  Billy.    How  do  you  feel  this  morning?  " 

Jotham  looked  around  to  see  who  was  addressed, 
and  found  it  was  the  horses,  who  whinnied  in  reply  to 


90  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

their  master.  The  boy  had  great  respect  for  these 
horses,  owing  to  their  spirited  overturn  the  night 
before,  and  he  soon  found  that  Mr.  Higglesey  had  an 
equal  regard  for  them. 

"  PuU  down  some  hay  from  that  highest  scaffold," . 
said  the  master.     "That's  for  the  horses.    I  never 
give  them  anything  but  the  best.    It  don't  pay  to 
keep    'em   poor.    I   must   have  horses  that  can  go 
ahead  on  the  road.    I  can't  be  all  day  out." 

Jotham  took  a  long-handled  rake,  made  for  the 
purpose,  and  began  to  rake  the  hay  from  the  high 
scaffold.  This  labor  reminded  him  of  the  morning 
previous  when  he  lay  cooped  on  just  such  a  scaffold 
and  saw  the  hay  disappearing  in  the  same  manner 
as  it  now  came  down.  He  almost  trembled  as  the 
idea  suggested  itself  that  some  poor  boy  might  be 
up  there  now ;  but  his  common  sense  shook  off'  the 
delusion,  and  he  continued  at  his  work. 

"Give  'em  a  good  feeding,"  continued  the  farmer. 
"  They  rtiust  be  off  by  daylight.  That's  it.  Now  go 
over  in  that  corner  and  pitch  out  some  corn-stalks 
for  the  cows ;  then  get  some  meadow  hay  from  the 
bay  there  for  the  young  critters.  That's  good 
enough  for  them,  and  there's  some  bean-vines  you 
can  throw  out  to  the  sheep.     Ply  round  now.     I'll 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  91 

be  mixing  up  some  meal  for  the  fatting  oxen.  Beefs 
pretty  high  this  fall,  and  I'm  going  to  make  mine 
Tveigh.    I'll  make  'em  bring  in  the  money." 

Jotham  followed  these  directions  with  skill  and 
alacrity.  The  old  man  spoke  with  authority,  and 
the  boy  saw  no  way  but  to  obey. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  when  he  had  finished 
stirring  the  meal,  "I'm  going  in  a  minute.  You  can 
be  emptying  the  rest  of  those  bags.  Tip  'em  up 
into  that  big  meal-chest.  I've  got  to  fill  'em  pretty 
soon.     I'U  bring  the  milk-pails  when  I  come  back." 

The  farmer  went  in,  congratulating  himself  that  he 
had  so  good  help  this  morning.  He  replenished  the 
fire,  warmed  his  hands  by  the  stove,  and  then 
brought  the  milk-pails  from  the  pantry  near.  Hast- 
ening back  to  the  barn,  he  found  Jotham  trying  to 
lift  a  heavy  bag  to  the  top  of  the  meal-chest.  There 
were  two  or  three  bushels  in  the  bag,  and  it  quite 
overpowered  the  boy's  strength. 

"Bah!  you're  a  weak  little  thing,"  remarked  the 
farmer,  giving  the  bag  a  puU  which  brought  it  to  the 
desired  location.  "  WeU,  never  mind,  you'll  grow 
stronger.  Untie  the  bag  now  and  let  the  meal  into 
the   chest,    whilp   I    bring   up   another.     That's   it. 


V2  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

You'x'e  nobody's  fool,  that's  sartin,  if  I  did  find  you 
sittin'  on  a  stone.    Can  you  milk?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.    I  never  tried." 

"WaU,  you  can  learn,  I  s'pose.  There  naust  al- 
ways be  a  first  time." 

"How  many  cows  do  you  keep?"  asked  Jotham. 

"  Wall,  we  milk  twelve  through  the  summer,  but 
some  on  'em  are  dry  now,  and  I  reckon  there's  only 
seven  to  milk  this  morning.  You  take  this  pail  and 
try  that  one  in  the  corner.  She  milks  .pretty  easy. 
My  old  woman  milks  sometimes;  but  I  guess  you 
can  do  it  this  time." 

Jotham  took. the  pail  and  listened  to  the  old  fann- 
er's directions,  but  his  thoughts  just  then  were 
turned  to  something  else.  He  had  been  taking  a 
survey  of  himself  by  the  light  of  the  lantern,  and 
he  was  not  well  pleased.  The  pretty  suit  of  dark  gray 
which  he  wore  was  covered  with  dust.  The  hay  and 
the  straw  had  fallen  upon  it,  and  now  those  bags  of 
meal  had  turned  the  front  part  of  it  as  white  as  the 
coat  of  a  miller.  He  began  to  brush  it  down  with 
his  hand. 

"Pshaw!  don't  stop  for  that!"  expostulated  the 
farmer.    "We  can't  mind  dirt  when. there's  so  much 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  93 

to  do.  Let  me  show  you  how  to  milk.  Here's  a 
stool." 

The  cows  were  ranged  side  by  side  in  the  stalls, 
and  fastened  by  their  heads.  Mr.  Higglesey  passed 
in  behind  them,  followed  by  Jotham  daintily  pick- 
ing his  way  by  the  light  of  the  lantern.  The  farm- 
er's heavy  boots  minded  little  where  they  stepped, 
but  Jotham's  thin  congress  shoes  were  not  accus- 
tomed to  this  walking,  and  he  moved  with  great 
caution. 

"Here's  the  cow,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  placing 
the  stool  beside  a  large  cow,  who  looked  as  though 
she  had  seen  many  summers.  "I'll  take  the  cow 
next  her,  and  if  you  need  any  help,  just  let  me 
know." 

Jotham  looked  at  the  stool  and  the  cow,  and  hesi- 
tated. He  had  half  a  mind  to  say  he  would  uot  do  it; 
but  the  farmer  did  not  notice  his  hesitation.  He  saw 
nothing  disagreeable,  nor  once  thought  that  the  fastidi- 
ous boy  could  be  disgusted  with  what  to  him  was  a 
part  of  natural  life.  • 

"Make  haste,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  own  cow; 
and  Jotham  unresistingly  took  a  seat  on  the  three- 
legged  stool.  He  had  seen  the  men  mUk  on  his  grand- 
father's farm,  but  his  own  hands  had  never  attempted 


94  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

the  operation.  The  farmer  turned  his  head  back  and 
gave  some  directions,  and  soon  a  faint  stream  de- 
scended to  the  pail,  followed  by  others. 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  the  farmer;  "  you're  doing  well ;  " 
while  into  his  own  pail  the  large  streams  came  thick 
and  fast. 

Jotham  kept  trying,  but  it  seemed  very  hard  and 
disagreeable.  The  old  cow,  the  most  patient  of  her 
kind,  bore  long  with  these  efforts.  She  would  not 
willingly  lift  her  foot,  but  it  did  seem  to  her  that  some 
foolish  person  was  at  work  upon  her,  and  at  last  she 
began  to  move. 

"So!"  called  the  farmer,  seeing  her  uneasiness; 
then,  as  he  finished  his  cow  and  arose  to  go  to  another, 
he  came  to  Jotham's  side  and  gave  him  a  little  prac- 
tical instruction.  The  boy  tried  to  follow  it,  and  for  a 
short  time  succeeded  a  little  better.  Mr.  Higglesey 
left  hifn,  and  once  more  the  cow  exercised  her  pa- 
tience. But  all  patience  must  have  an  end,  and  so  the 
cow  flually  thought.  An  extra  pinch  from  Jotham  was 
too  much  for  endurance,  and,  lifting  her  foot,  she  gave 
a  vigorous  thrust  at  the  intruder.  Over  went  the  pail 
and  the  milk,  and  over  went  Jotham,  stool  and  all. 
The  milk  flew  up  on  to  the  clothes  which' were  previ- 
ously covered  with  the  meal,  and  now  there  was  a 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.    .  95 

conglomeration,  or  paste,  covering  the  nice  school- 
suit. 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  groaned  the  boy,  trying  to  gather  him- 
self up  ftom  the  floor  beneath  the  cow. 

"What's  the  matter?"  called  the  farmer,  extending 
his  head  forward  to  discover  the  extent  of  the  catas- 
trophe. "Ha!  got  kicked  over,  have  you?  Wall, 
you  must  be  a  nateral  fool  if  you  couldn't  milk  that 
cow.  She's  been  on  this  farm  more'n  ten  years,  and 
she  never  kicked  before.     Spilled  your  milk  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  sighed  Jotham.    "It  is  all  gone." 

"Wall,  you'll  catch  it  from  Betsey,  I  reckon.  Milk 
makes  butter ;  and  she's  pretty  careftil  of  her  butter  I 
can  tell  you." 

Jotham  sighed  inwardly.  He  saw  a  sample  of  Mrs. 
Higglesey's  temper  the  night  previous,  and  he  dreaded 
to  irritate  it.  He  dreaded  to  go  into  the  house ;  but 
there  was  no  alternative.  He  must  have  some  break- 
fast, and  this  was  the  only  way  of  obtaining  it.  One 
thought  of  home  flashed  across  his  mind,  one  mental 
glance  at  Harry,  probably  then  quietly  sleeping  in  his 
bed,  and  then  Mr.  Higglesey  called  him. 

"Here,  seeing  you  can't  milk,  take  the  lantern  and 
go  up  to  the  corn-barn;  bring  down  a  measure  of 


96  TEE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

corn  and  scatter  it  about  the  floor  to  be  ready  for  the 
hens.    They'll  be  up  soon." 

Jotham  took  the  lantern  and  a  measure  in  his  hands, 
and  went  out.  The  cold  wind  struck  him  as  he 
emerged  into  the  open  air,  but  he  dared  not  pause. 
Mr.  Higglesey  had  pointed  out  the  corn-barn  the  night 
before,  at  some  distance  from  the  large  barn,  and  now 
the  boy  found  his  way  to  it  alone.  There  was  plenty 
of  corn  in  it,  shelled  and  nnshelled,  and  it  took  but  a 
moment  to  fill  the  measure,  with  which,  on  his  return, 
he  strewed  the  barn-floor. 

"Now,"  called  Mr.  Higglesey,  "you  might  as  well 
be  pumping.  The  horses  and  cattle  must  drink  by 
and  by,  and  you  might  flll  up  the  trough." 

The  pump  was  slightly  sheltered  by  a  small  board 
erection,  but  it  was  cold  there,  and  the  handle  made 
the  boy's  nnused  fingers  pretty  numb;  but  he  soon 
found  that  the  exercise  ofliset  the  cold.  The  blood 
mounted  to  his  cheeks  as  he  vigorously  plied  his  arms 
up  and  down.  It  seemed  as  though  the  trough  would, 
never  flll.  It  was  a  huge  thing,  from  which  forty 
cattle  were  expecting  to  drink.  When  it  was  at  last 
full,  Jotham's  forehead  was  covered  with  beads  of 
perspiration,  his  arms  ached,  and  he  felt  very  much 
like  dropping  to  the  ground.     Just  then  Mr.  Hig- 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGBTBKEn.  97 

glesey  came  out  with  his  pails  of  mUk.  He  was 
delighted  at  the  sight  of  the  water,  —  for  the  pumping, 
he  always  declared,  was  the  hardest  thing  he  had  to 
do.  He  would  have  an  easier  pump,  but  it  would  cost 
to  change,  and  he  had  rather  work  his  body  to  tke 
last  extremity  than  pay  out  money.  He  congratulated 
himself  as  he  went  into  the  house  that  the  water  was 
pumped  for  one  morning,  and  therefore  he  felt  quite 
favorably  disposed  toward  his  guest. 

When  Jotham  entered  the  kitchen  again,  he  found 
the  table  spread  for  the  morning  meal ;  and  this  time 
Mrs.  Higglesey  had  taken  the  trouble  to  move  it  to 
the  middle  of  the  room.  But  there  was  no  white 
cloth  on  it,  and  it  seemed  hard  and  cheerless  with 
only  that  painted  covering.  However,  a  dish  of  smok- 
ing potatoes  compensated  for  other  defects;  for  the 
labors  of  the  morning  had  stimulated  the  hunger  of 
the  young  workman. 

"  'Pears  to  me  there  aint  so  much  milk  as  common," 
said  Mrs.  Higglesey,  looking  into  the  pails. 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Higglesey,  "  the  boy  got  kicked, 
and  lost  his." 

"  That's  jest  the  way  oii't,"  returned  the  harsh  voice 
of  the  woman.    "  It's  always  jest  so  when  there's  a 
boy  round.    They're  nothing  but  botliers." 
7  . 


98  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

But  Mr.  Higglesey's  mind  was  still  upon  that  trough 
of  water,  and  he  answered,  laughingly,  — 

"Oh,  boys  aint  so  bad!  They're  mighty  handy 
sometimes.  You  see  he  never  milked  before,  and 
what  could  you  expect  of  him?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  what  I  expect ;  I  doil't  want  to 
lose  my  milk.  There's  butter  forty  cents  a  pound, 
every  cent  on't,  and  going  higher  every  day.  Do  you 
think  I  want  my  milk  spilt  over?  I  tell  you,  Enoch 
Higglesey,  I  won't  have  such  work.  I'll  make  a  noise 
about  it,  I  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  you  can  make  a  noise  any  time ! "  returned  the 
man,  going  to  the  kettle  for  hot  water,  which  he 
carried  to  a  wash-basin,  calling  to  Jotham  to  follow 
him. 

"  Dip  in,"  said  the  man ;  and  the  delicate  hands  of 
the  school-boy  were  washed  in  the  same  dish  with 
those  of  the  coarse  farmer,  and  wiped  upon  the  same 
towel.  The  incongruity  between  them  struck  the 
mind  of  the  man,  and  he  said,  "Mighty  soft  hands 
you've  got,  boy.  Reckon  they  never  did  much  work. 
When  they've  been  at  it  as  many  years  as  mine  have, 
they'll  get  toughened.  Come,  old  woman,  put  on 
your  coffee."  ' 


THE    CROOK  STnAIGHTENED.  99 

Mrs.  Higglesey  obeyed ;  and  her  husband  pointed  to 
a  chair  beside  the  table,  saying,  — 

"  Sit  down,  boy,  and  help  yourself." 

Jotham  was,  at  that  moment,  thinking  he  was  unfit 
to  go  to  the  table,  his  clothes  were  so  soiled ;  but  he 
saw  that  the  farmer  and  his  wife  did  not  stop  to  think 
of  those  secondary  things.  They  had  two  aims  in 
life :  one  was  to  make  money ;  the  other,  to  keep  it. 
And  as  they  made  money  by  work,  labor  became  the 
first  object  of  their  thoughts;  and  as  mach  money 
could  be  saved  by  the  manner  of  eating,  and  the 
quality  of  the  food,  therefore  the  table  arrangements 
were  in  accordance  with  economy. 

The  fiirmer  sat  down  with  his  striped  frock  just  as 
he  had  come  from  the  cows,  and  Mrs.  Higglesey's 
faded  dress  and  wide  check  apron  were  scarcely  more 
presentable.  Jotham  soon  saw  that,  much  as  his  own 
clothes  were  soiled,  he  looked  like  a  gentleman  com- 
pared with  his  rustic  companions,  and,  without  more 
thought,  he  took  a  potato  and  commenced  his  repast. 
There  was  only  a  dish  of  fried  salt  pork  besides  the 
potatoes  and  a  plate  of  brown  bread ;  but  genuine  hun- 
ger is  not  over-particular.  It  is  only  those  who  never 
get  truly  hungry  that  are  fastidious.  Real  hunger  can 
eat  anything.    Let  almost  any  person  abstain  from 


100  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

food  two  days,  and  he  will  be  able  to  drink  barley 
coflTee  sweetened  with  molasses  as  freely  as  Jotham 
drank  it  that  morning.  He  was  thankftil  for  his  break- 
fast and  ate  it  accordingly. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  rising  from  the  table, 
when  the  meal  was  finished,  "we  might  as  well  go 
out  and  put  up  the  oats.    Come,  boy." 

Again  Jotham  put  on  his  cap  and  followed  his  mas- 
ter. The  oats  were  packed  away  in  a  large  bin,  and 
bag  after  bag  was  filled.  Jotham  noticed  that  in 
measuring,  instead  of  drawing  the  stick  straight 
across  the  "half-bushel"  into  which  they  had  been 
dipped,  the  farmer  managed  to  hollow  each  one,  and 
at  last  he  ventured  to  speak  of  it. 

"Hold  your  tongue,"  replied  the  man,  sharply.  "I 
know  what  I'm  about.  Marston  thought  he'd  make  a 
good  bargain  out  of  me,  so  he  squeezed  a  cent  off  from 
every  bushel,  but  I  can  take  it  out  of  the  measure. 
If  you  teU  of  it  though,  I'll  lick  the  hide  off  your  very 
body." 

Jotham  did  not  speak  again,  but  a  feeling  of  con- 
tempt for  the  miserly  man  sprang  up  in  his  mind.  Al- 
though so  conscious  of  his  own  misdeeds,  he  despised 
dishonesty,  and  the  scanty  measures  which  they 
poured  into  the  bags  seemed  to  him  the  height  of 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  101 

meanness,   and    a  train    of  reasoning   arose    in   his 
tliouglits. 

"  If  I  am  so  mean,"  he  mused,  "  I'm  as  good  as  this 
man,  and  he  feels  pretty  nicely  over  himself.  He 
thiuks  he's  done  a  shrewd  thing;  I  think  I'd  be 
ashamed  to  do  it.  Well,  I  remember  my  Sabbath- 
school  teacher  used  to  say,  all  people  had  defects, . 
some  in  one  form,  some  in  another ;  and  that  we  must 
excuse  each  other  on  that  ground.  If  my  father  had 
thought  of  that,  he  would  not  have  been  so  cross  to 
me,  and  then  I  would  riot  have  run  away  from  home. 
I  wonder  "what  George  and  James  Thompson  think  of 
me.  I  wonder  where  they  are.  They  ought  to  have 
gone  into  the  lock-up  instead  of  me.  They  put  me 
up  to  steal  Mrs.  Peckham's  apples.  I  told  them  ever 
so  many  times  that  I  wouldn't  go,  and  I  never  would 
only,  George  said  he'd  tell  my  father  about  that  knife. 
Oh,  dear ! " 

While  Jotham  was  thus  reasoning,  Mr.  Higglesey, 
too,  was  thinking,  but  his  thoughts  were  in  another  di- 
rection. He  was  estimating  hovv  much  he  would  be 
likely  to  save  by  his  scant  measure,  and  Avas  thinking, 
"Wall,  a  little  here,  and  a 'little  there  makes  a  good 
deal.    The  way  to  do  is  to  save  all  we  can." 

"Boy,"  said  the  farmer,   when  the  oats  were  all 


102  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

measured,  "you'd  better  stay  here  till  I  come  back.  I 
can  give  you  enough  to  do.  There's  that  pile  of  pump- 
kins, —  I  want  a  lot  of  them  chopped  up  for  the  cattle ; 
then  there's  all  the  cattle  to  water,  the  stable  to  clear, 
the  pigs  to  feed,  aqd  the  cattle  to  be  fed  occasionally. 
If  you  don't  know  how  to  do  it,  my  old  woman,  she 
can  show  you.  She's  as  good  at  it  as  I  am.  There's 
no  knowing  how  long  I  may  be  gone.  I've  got  to  get 
these  harnesses  mended." 

There  was  nothing  very  inviting  in  this  proposal. 
It  would  not  be  very  agreeable  to  work  all  day,  but 
how  else  could  there  be  any  dinner?  Jotham  agreed 
to  stay,  for  he  dreaded  starting  off  again  with  no 
money  in  his  pocket.  The  remembrance  of  his  weari- 
ness and  hunger  was  fresh  in  his  mind,  and  he  thought 
it  would  be  better  to  work  and  have  some  dinner,  even 
though  the  food  was  coarse.  At  least  it  was  whole- 
some, and  a  poor  home  was  far  better  than  none. 

Never  before  had  he  so  exerted  himself  to  please  as 
this  day.  Faithfully  he  performed  every  duty  that  the 
farmer  had  laid  before  him,  repulsive  as  it  was.  As 
he  knew  scarcely  anything  of  such  work,  his  natural 
intelligence  served  in  the  place  of  practical  experience. 
Mrsj-  Higglesey  often  came  out  to  see  that  everything 
was  right,  and  her  instructions  assisted  him  greatly. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  103 

She  seemed  to  have  become  reconciled  to  the  loss  of 
her  milk,  for  although  her  tones  were  coarse  and 
harsh,  Jotham  saw  that  she  was  not  angry.  In  fact, 
she  was  beginning  to  think  it  would  be  a  very  good 
plan  to  secure  the  services  of  so  smart  a  boy,  and  she 
busied  her  thoughts  contriving  how  little  it  would  do 
to  offer  him  in  pay. 

"  One  thing  is  true,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it  is  easier 
to  rise  than  to  fall ;  so  we'll  not  offer  him  too  much  at 
first.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  could  make  a  good 
thing  out  of  him." 


104  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED, 


CHAPTER    VI. 

CHURNING      AND      PUMPING. 

Mr.  Higglesey  came  home,  the  work  at 
the  barn  was  completed,  and  Jotham  Was 
in  the  house.  But  he  was  not  idle.  Mrs. 
Higglesey's  conscience  would  never  permit  idleness, 
and  as  she  could  really  find  nothing  more  to  do  at 
the  barn  just  then,  she  had  taken  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  to  have  her  wood-box  filled,  her  pails 
of  water  replenished,  and  several  other  small  as- 
sistances secured. 

"  I  declare,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  it's  right  handy, 
as  Enoch  says,  to  have  some  one  to  help." 

The  farmer's  breakfast  had  been  so  early  that 
Jotham  grew  quite  faint  before  noon.  He  did  wish 
he  could  just  have  an  apple  or  a  piece  of  bread  and 
butter  when  he  came  in  from  the  bam ;  but  he  dared 
not  mention  it  to  the  broad-faced  woman,  who  was 
busy  with  her  pans  of  milk,  apparently  not  thinking 


THE    CROOK  STJIAIOHTENED.  105 

It  possible  that  the  boy  could  be  hungry  or  even 
weary.  A  boy,  in  her  eyes,  was  a  piece  of  machinery 
to  be  wound  up  in  the  morning  and  to  be  kept  run- 
ning all  day  with  the  steadiness  of  a  watch. 

At  twelve  o'clock  Mr.  Higglesey  had  not  returned, 
and  Mrs.  Higglesey,  remarking  that  she  "never 
made  much  fuss  over  dinner  when  he  was  away," 
produced  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk,  which  she  placed 
before  Jothara,  at  the  same  time  making  a  cup  of 
tea  for  herself. 

"There's  nothing  so  good  for  children  as  milk," 
she  observed,  as  she  handed  him  the  bowl.  "It 
makes  'em  grow  right  up  like  weeds." 

Jotham  was  quite  fond  of  milk;  he  used  often  to 
beg  his  grandmother  for  bread  and  milk;  but  that 
was  rich  and  nourishing,  for  Grandmother  Wilson 
stirred  in. her  cream,  while  this  which  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey brought  had  been  skimmed  till  its  color  was 
a  delicate  shade  of  blue.  But  Jotham's  keen  appe- 
tite compensated  for  the  poor  quality,  and  without 
complaint  he  ate  the  whole,  only  wishing  he  could 
have  more.  He  had  noticed  beside  the  stove  a 
box  standing  on  legs  and  a  crank  attached  to  the 
box,  and  when  he  had  finished  his  bread  and  milk, 
Mrs.  Higglesey  called  his  attention  to  it. 


106  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"See  that,"  she  said.    "Did  you  ever  churn?** 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Well,  'tisn't  much  to  learn.  You've  only  to  turn 
that  crank  round  till  the  butter  comes.  I  put  in 
the  cream  some  time  ago,  so  as  to  have  it  warm- 
ing. You've  nothing  else  to  do,  and  you  might  as 
well  be  turning  the  crank." 

Jotham  moved  his  chair  beside  the  churn  and 
began  to  turn.  The  crank  went  over  heavily,  for 
the  cream  was  thick  and  stiflf,  but  gradually  it  soft- 
ened, and  presently  it  began  to  slosh  against  the 
sides  of  the  box  in  genuine  cream  fashion.  The 
boy  looked  at  the  clock  occasionally,  still  turning, 
till  an  hour  elapsed.  His  arms  and  shoulders  were 
weary;  he  changed  hands  often  to  rest  himself,  but 
still  the  cream  continued  that  same  dull  slosh. 

"I  don't  know  what  ails  it,"  Mrs.  Higglesey  said, 
removing  the  lid  and  scraping  the  froth  down  with 
a  knife.  "It  acted  just  so  last  week.  I  thought 
'twould  never  come.  I  s'pose  it's  because  the  cows 
have  come  to  the  barn.  Cream  never  does  come 
well,  right  between  hay  and  grass.  Well,  it's  lucky 
you've  got  nothing  else  to  do,  so  you  can  keep  at  it." 

She  closed  the  chum,  and  the  chumer  recom- 
menced his  labors.      She    combed   her   hair  by  the 


.  f^TH'-  ei08.'\'S0K  -  St 


A  HART)  Day's  Work.  — Pages  106  and  107. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED  107 

kitchen  glass,  took  her  knitting  and  sat  down.  He 
turned  and  turned  the  iron  crank  till  his  stomach 
grew  faint  again,  his  hands  were  nearly  ready  to 
blister,  and  his  face  was  covered  with  hot  flushes. 
She  knit  and  knit,  unmindful  of  his  weariness.  Her 
feet  were  on  the  hearth  of  the  stove,  and  she  seemed 
quite  contented  and   comfortable. 

"It's  time  Enoch  was  here,"  she  remarked,  at 
length.  "  I  may  as  well  put  on  his  potatoes.  He 
never's  quite  contented  with  bread  and  milk,  though 
I  made  him  eat  it  last  churning-day,  for  the  cream 
was  full  three  hours  coming." 

"  Three  hours ! "  thought  Jothara  with  a  shiver 
of  dread.  "I've  churned  almost  two,  now.  I  can't 
stand  it  another  hour,  no  way.  My  arms  will  break 
off." 

Again  he  changed  hands  by  way  of  relief,  but 
both  arms  were  so  tired  that  changing  was  of  little 
use.  He  hadn't  been  thoroughly  rested  since  the 
pumping  in  the  morning.  Slowly,  wearily,  another 
half  hour  dragged  away,  and  still  the  same  splash 
was  ringing  in  the  boy's  ears.  Mrs.  Higglesey 
came  again  to  the  churn  with  her  knife  in  her 
hand,  and  once  more  the  froth  was  scraped  down. 
She  was  becoming  impatient. 


108  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"I  don't  want  to  lose  this  week's  churning,"  she 
said;  "just  when  butter's  growing  higher  every 
day.  Churn  faster,  boy.  Maybe  if  you  churn  faster 
it  will  come." 

An  inward  sigh  was  Jotham's  only  response. 
Tailing  the  crank  once  more  in  his  red,  burning 
palms,  he  began  to  turn  with  increased  velocity. 
The  hot  blood  flushed  into  his  forehead;  putting 
up  one  hand  he  rubbed  the  moisture  from  his 
brow  and  threw  the  hair  away  from  his  temples, 
then  changed  hands  and  sent  the  obdurate  cream 
against  its  prison  sides  in  splashing  fury.  Mrs. 
Higglesey  sat  complacently  rejoicing  that  it  was 
not  herself  doing  the  work,  though  her  broad  hands 
and  stout  arms  looked  much  more  fitted  for  it 
than  did  the  tender  hands  and  unused  arms  that 
were  taliing  her  place.  Just  then  the  horses  passed 
the  kitchen  windows,  and  Mr.  Higglesey  called. 
The  woman  arose  and  went  to  the  door. 

"Where's  the  boy?"  asked  the  farmer. 

"  He's  in  here,  helping  me." 

"  Tell  hira  to  come  out  and  help  me  put  up 
Tom  and  Billy." 

"You  can't  have  him." 

"Why  can't  I?" 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTEXED.  109 

"Because  I  want  him.  You've  put  up  the  horses 
a  good  many  years,  and  I  guess  you  can  do  it 
once  more.    I  want  the  boy  to  churn." 

"To  churn!"  echoed  the  man.  "Wall,  let  him 
churn,  then." 

Jotham's  hopes  went  down.  He  would  much 
rather  put  up  Tom  and  Billy  than  to  churn,  for 
he  was  sure  his  arms  would  break  if  he  had  to 
turn  there  much  longer.  But  Mr.  Higglesey  had 
churned  many  times  in  his  life,  and  he,  too,  pre- 
ferred putting  up  the  horses.  "Without  a  word  he 
went  to  the  barn  alone,  and  the  churning  con- 
tinued uninterrupted.  Little  blisters  came  on  the 
inside  of  the  tender  hands,  but  he  dared  not  show 
them,  for  the  woman's  heavy  voice  and  brisk  man- 
ner quite  put  him  in  awe.  Evidently  she  expected 
to  be  obeyed  in  her  own  house,  and  how  could 
a  friendless,  homeless  outcast  rebel  against  her? 
When  Mr.  Higglesey  came  in,  the  three  hours  were 
nearly  expired,  but  the  cream  remained  unchanged. 

"  What  ails  the  stuff  ?  "  asked  the  man  as  his  wife 
entered  her  complaints.  *'  You  didn't  get  it  warm 
enough." 

"  Warm  enough !  "  retorted  the  woman.  "  Do  you 
think  I  don't  know  anvthing?    I've  had  that  churn 


110  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

beside  the  stove  the  whole  forenoon.  It  ought  to  be 
warm  enough." 

"  Then  I  s'pose  you  got  it  too  warm." 

"Too  warm  I  Of  course  that's  the  next  thing  to 
say.  I  tell  you  'tisn't  too  warm.  I've  churned  forty 
years,  and  I  guess  I  know  how  warm  to  have  my 
cream." 

"  Pshaw !  you  can't  always  tell.  You  see  tbe 
weather's  diflferent  some  days  from  others." 

"Don't  you  think  I  know  that,  Enoch  Higglesey? 
I  don't  go  by  the  weather.    I  can  tell  by  myself." 

Jotham,  pufling  in  exhaustion,  ventured  to  speak  in 
a  mild  voice, — 

"  My  grandmother  keeps  a  thermometer,  and  she 
holds  it  into  the  cream  to  try  it." 

"A  'mometer! "  repeated  Mrs.  Higglesey,  scornfully. 
"  "Well,  let  her  keep  her  'mometer.  I  don't  want  none 
of  yer  new-fangled  notions.  I've  churned  forty  years, 
and  I  guess  my  flnger'll  tell  how  warm  the  cream  is. 
Miss  Clarke,  up  here,  she  hangs  a  '  mometer  in  her 
dairy-room  and  keeps  her  room  just  so  warm ;  but  I'm 
not  going  to  pay  a  dollar  for  a  'mometer.  I  can  tell 
when  a  room's  warm  enough  by  my  feelings." 

Jotham  said  no  more.  It  was  apparent  that  new 
inventions,  if  they  cost  money,  would  never  be  accept- 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  Ill 

able  to  Mrs.  Higglesey.  She  preferred  putting  her 
dollars  in  the  bank,  and  then  treading  in  the  self-same 
paths  her  fathers  trod.  With  a  resolute  air  she  pre- 
pared Mr.  Higglesey's  dinner,  and  Jotham  continued 
churning. 

"  It  beats  all  I  ever  did  see !  "  she  exclaimed,  at  last, 
when  he  had  churned  full  four  hours.  "I'm  afraid 
'twill  never  come.    It  don't  gain  a  bit." 

"  Put  some  salt  in,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  rising  ftom 
the  table  at  the  side  of  the  room,  and  smacking  his 
lips  at  the  close  of  his  dinner. 

"  Well,  I  will.  I  never  thought  of  that,"  and  direct- 
ly she  allowed  Jotham  to  pause  while  she  poured  in  a 
cup  of  salt. 

"  Let  me  see  what  ails  it,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey," 
coming  forward  and  taking  hold  of  the  crank. 

Jotham  stopped  with  a  thrill  of  relief.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  one  turn  of  that  terrible  machine  by  some- 
body else,  would  be  a  source  of  joy  to  him.  He  looked 
at  the  inside  of  his  hands,  and  then  he  straightened 
his  limbs,  cramped  by  long  sitting. 

"  I  don't  believe  this'll  come,  mother,"  said  Mr. 
Higglesey.  "  It  looks  just  like  tiat  we  had  last  fall. 
We  sold  that  to  Marston,  you  know,  and  he  sent  it  off 
to  the  city,    I  guess  you'd  better  sell  this." 


112  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  I  guess  I  won't.  Not  till  it  has  been  churned  some 
longer,  any  way.  What's  the  use  to  give  up  now? 
Let  the  boy  churn." 

"  But  I  want  him  out  to  the  barn,  now.  I  want  the 
horses  watered,  and  the  cattle  ought  to  drink  again, 
and  there  aint  a  mite  of  water  pumped." 

"  Well,  I  want  the  churning." 

"Let  the  churning  go  a  spell.  Come,  boy;  come 
out  to  the  barn  with  me." 

Jotham  hardly  knew  which  to  obey,  both  seemed  to 
possess  so  much  authority,  but,  as  Mrs.  Higglesey  did 
not  speak  again,  he  followed  her  husband,  glad  to  be 
released.  He  gained  little,  however,  for  his  first 
business  was  to  fill  that  trough  with  water  from  the 
pump.  Then  the  horses  were  to  be  combed,  and  the 
farmer  called  him  to  assist. 

This  was  the  most  agreeable  part  of  the  labor  to  the 
incipient  workman.  A  horse  was  always  his  delight, 
and  these  were  fine,  spirited  animals.  He  could 
already  distinguish  Tom  from  Billy,  although  they 
were  well  mated. 

"  Tom's  the  smartest  horse,"  he  said"  to  the  farmer, 
as  the  two  curried  each  his  own  beast. 

"  Wall,  I  reckon  he  is,"  returned  the  farmer,  "  though 
there  aint  much  diflference  in  'em.    They're  smart  crit- 


THE   CROOK  STRAW HTEKED.  113 

ters.  They'll  take  me  to  the  city  in  four  hours,  and 
draw  a  pretty  good  load  too." 

"  Can  you  go  clear  to  the  city  in  four  hours?  "  asked 
the  boy. 

"  Yes,  any  day." 

Jotham  thought  of  the  two  days  during  which  he 
had  walked  in  getting  to  the  farmer's  home,  and  he 
wondered  how  the  farmer  could  go  the  same  in  four 
hours ;  but  then  he  reflected  that  he  had  probably  come 
by  a  longer  route  than  the  farmer  took,  and  that  the 
horses  were  swift  travellers. 

"  You  understand  this  business,"  said  the  farmer, 
watching  the  boy  as  he  dexterously  smoothed  Tom's 
chestnut  coat.    "  Guess  you've  worked  at  it." 

"I've  done  it  for  ftin,"  replied  Jotham.  "Old  Joe 
Smith,  the  hostler,  used  to  let  me  help  him,  and  some- 
times I'd  get  rides  to  pay." 

"  "Wall,  I'm  glad  you  like  it.  I  never  like  it  very 
well ;  so,  if  you'll  stay  with  me,  I'll  let  you  take  care 
of  Tom  and  Billy.  You  may  keep  'em  as  shiny  as  you 
like.    How  should  you  like  to  stay  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Jotham.  "  I  don't  know 
where  to  stay." 

"  Wall,  you  might  as  well  stay  with  me  as  anybody. 
It's  a  bad  time  of  year  for  getting  work,  and  if  your 
8 


114  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

father'd  known  anything  about  fanning,  he'd  never 
sent  you  out  jest  the  first  of  the  winter.  I  don't  be- 
lieve there's  another  family  in  this  neighborhood  that 
wants  a  boy,  and  if  you  go  further,  you'll  find  it  jest 
the  same.  Folks  don't  have  much  to  do  in  the  winter, 
and  there's  always  more  men  and  boys  than  places." 

Jotham  thought  quite  likely  this  statement  was  true, 
and  he  had  a  terrible  dread  of  being  homeless  again. 
Besides,  just  now  he  was  feeling  more  natural,  for  the 
horses  had  restored  him  a  little  to  happiness.  He 
liked  to  be  near  them,  to  rub  their  smooth  sides,  and 
his  eye  was  filled  with  the  beauty  of  their  graceful 
proportions.  He  thought  they  were  almost  equal  to 
his  grandfather's  colts  which  had  so  delighted  him. 

"Wall,  what  say,  boy?"  continued  the  farmer. 
"Will  you  stay  with  me?" 

Jotham,  rubbing  Tom's  shoulder,  was  thinking  it 
would  be  grand  fun  to  ride  on  his  graceful  back,  and 
he  answered  the  farmer's  question  by  asking  another. 

"  If  I  stay,  can  I  ride  Tom  sometimes  ?  " 

"Ride  Tom!  Wall,  I  don't  know.  Yes,  — I  don't 
care  if  you  ride,  that  is,  —  if  you  know  how  to  ride 
without  being  thrown." 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  do.  Joe  Smith  used  to  let  me  ride 
ever  so  much," 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  11^ 

"  Wall,  you  can  ride.  But  if  you  stay  with  me 
yoall  have  to  work.  TVe  don't  have  drones  in  our 
line.  All  that  we  have  must  pay.  That's  the  way 
to  get  along  in  the  world." 

Jotham's  arms  were  still  aching  from  the  labors 
of  the  day,  but  his  judgment  and  his  experiences 
told  him  that  it  would  not  be  wise  to  reftise  the 
farmer's  offer,  and  he  answered,  directly,  "  Yes,  sir, 
I'll  stay." 

The  supper  at  the  side-table,  the  evening  work  at 
the  bam,  and  all  out-door  duties  were  performed, 
and  Jotham  came  in,  hoping  he  might  go  to  bed,  or 
at  least  sit  by  the  fire  and  rest;  but  Mrs.  Higglescy 
had  her  own  plans.  She  was  determined  to  have 
some  butter  from  that  cream.  She  had  chamed  at 
intervals  since  Jotham  went  out,  hoping  to  see  some 
signs  of  the  desired  separation  of  the  buttery 
crumbs  from  the  milk;  but  no  change  had  yet 
shown  signs  of  occurring.  The  moment  Jotham 
came  in,  she  called  him. 

"  There,  I'm  glad  your  work  is  done,"  she  said. 
"  Now  take  a  chair  and  sit  down  again  by  this 
churn.  I  never  did  see  anything  like  this  cream  j 
but  I'm  not  going  to  give  it  up." 


116  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Jotham  took  his  place  by  the  churn,  and  again 
began  to  tarn. 

"Faster,"  said  the  Tvoman,  and  then  he  turned 
more  swiftly,  while  the  old  farmer  sat  before  the 
oven  with  his  pipe  under  the  flue.  Around  and 
around  went  the  crank,  while  the  weary  young 
workman  watched  the  clock,  wishing  that  would  go 
with  as  great  speed  as  his  hands  were  using.  An 
hour  seemed  to  him  like  three;  but  nevertheless  it 
ended  at  last,  and  the  cream  remained  cream  still. 

"What's  the  use  of  trying?"  said  Mr.  Higglesey, 
at  length,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  and 
closing  the  oven  door.  "I've  seen  cream  before, 
and  I  tell  you,  Betsey,  that  won't  come.  There's 
no  use." 

"  But  I'm  not  going  to  give  it  up,"  replied  the 
woman.  "  I  reckon  I've  got  some  perseverance.  If 
3'ou've  got  done  smoking,  take  hold  yourself." 

Very  obediently  the  husband  came  to  the  churn, 
and  Jotham  was  once  more  released.  The  new 
workman  began  to  investigate. 

"I  tell  you,  Betsey,  pour  in  some  hot  water." 

"And  so  spoQ  my  buttermilk  by  having  water 
in  it." 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENEV.  117 

"Who  cares  for  the  buttermilk?  There's  no  use 
in  churning  here  all  night." 

"No,  of  course  you  don't  care;  but  I  do.  I  want 
it  to  use." 

A  little  longer  Mr.  Higglesey  chamed,  and  then 
rising  he  seized  the  tea-kettle  and  poured  in  the 
boiling  water.  Again  he  churned,  but  there  was  no 
butter. 

"  Pour  out  the  cream,"  he  exclaimed,  at  length, 
exasperated.     "  I'll  carry  it  to  Marston's  to-morrow." 

"I  won't  pour  it  out,"  replied  the  woman.  "I'll 
let  it  stand  and  try  it  again  to-morrow." 

Jotham  was  thankful  to  be  released,  and  soon  Mr. 
Higglesey  bade  him  go  to  bed. 

"  You  don't  need  a  light,"  said  the  woman.    "Take  - 
care  and  not  bump  your  head  on  the  beam." 

Cautiously  he  ascended  the  stairs,  and,  entering 
the  small  chamber,  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
Then,  by  the  light  of  the  stars  through  the  window, 
groping  his  way  to  the  bed,  he  threw  himself  upon 
it,  and  burst  into  tears.  Mr.  Higglesey  closed  the 
door  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  then  took  a  seat 
by  the  stove,  while  Mrs.  Higglesey  moved  the  churn 
back  to  await  another  day. 

"I  tell  you,  Betsey,"  he  said,  as  the  woman  took 


118  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

her  knitting  and  returned  to  her  chair,  "  this  ere's  a 
smart  boy.    It's  a  lucky  hit  that  sent  him  to  us." 

" Have  you  made  a  bargain  with  him,  Enoch? " 

"I  asked  him  if  he'd  stay,  and  he  said  he  would.  I 
s'pose  I  shall  have  to  pay  him  a  little." 

"I  wouldn't  give  him  much.  You'll  have  to  board 
him,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know;  and  that's  about  as  much  as  his 
work  is  worth,  these  short  days.  But  he'll  have  to 
have  clothes,  you  know." 

"Yes,  Enoch;  and  now  I  think  of  it,  wouldn't  it  be 
a  good  plan  to  agree  to  give  him  his  board  and 
clothes  ?  I  reckon  I  could  fix  up  his  clothes  cheaper 
than  we  could  pay  him  any  other  way." 

"That's  a  good  idee,  Betsey.  You're  pretty  good 
at  planning,  that's  sartain." 

"Nobody  can  beat  me,  I  reckon,"  she  answered, 
complacently  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "It  was  a 
lucky  thing  for  you,  Enoch  Higglesey,  when  you  got 
me.  I've  saved  you  many  a  dollar.  You'd  never  been 
so  rich  as  you  are,  if  you'd  had  some  women." 

Mr.  Higglesey  was  too  wise  to  dispute  this  point, 
and  his  wife  retired  well  satisfied  with  herself  and 
with  the  world  in  which  she  lived. 
Jotham,  on  his  bed,  wept  long  and  freely,  like  a 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  119 

girl  ftill  of  sorrows.  He  was  utterly  exhausted.  It 
was  the  first  day  of  toil  his  life  had  ever  known,  and 
it  had  been  of  unceasing  severity.  He  was  sure  he 
would  not  live  long  if  he  must  work  like  that  every 
day;  but,  then,  what  could  he  do?  "Where  could  he 
go?" 

A  little  voice,  low  down  in  his  heart,  whispered, 
"  Go  home,"  and  he  almost  started  to  obey  the  sum- 
mons. He  thought  he  would  run  down  the  stairs, 
out  at  the  door,  and  away,  nor  would  he  pause  till  he 
reached  his  father's  home.  There  he  would  throw 
himself  upon  his  knees  and  implore  his  parents'  for- 
giveness. Nay,  more,  he  would  even  submit  to  pen- 
ances and  bear  punishments  till  his  father  would  be 
satisfied  that  he  would  reform.  Yes,  he  would  go 
home  that  very  minute ;  and  he  sprang  from  the  bed 
for  the  purpose ;  but,  as  he  looked  through  the  win- 
dow, he  was  recalled  to  the  difficulties  of  starting 
off  to  walk  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  in  the  dark- 
ness of  so  cold  a  night.  Experience  warned  him  of 
the  weary  road  he  would  have  to  travel,  and  he 
hesitated. 

"  I'll  not  go  to-night,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  but  to- 
morrow morning  I'll  start." 

With  this  resolution  he  retired;  but  sleep  did  not 


120  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

immediately  come  to  him,  and,  as  he  lay  awake,  new 
thoughts  counteracted  his  resolution. 

*'  "Would  it  not  be  mean  and  babyish  to  go  home?  " 
he  asked  himself.  His  father  had  told  him  he  ought 
to  work  for  his  living,  and,  perhaps,  if  he  should  go 
home,  his  father  would  remind  him  of  his  reply,  how 
he  had  boastingly  said  he  guessed  he  could  work; 
and,  if  he  should  fail  now,  on  the  very  first  day  of 
his  trial,  it  would  poorly  accord  with  his  boast.  Be- 
sides, he  was  not  sure  of  a  welcome  reception  by  his 
father;  and  he  would  have  to  explain  his  conduct,  tell 
where  he  had  been,  and  be  subject  to  an  inquisition. 
Of  course  all  his  acquaintances  knew  by  this  time 
that  he  was  gone,  and,  if  he  should  go  home  so  soon, 
they  would  laugh  at  him,  and  say  he  had  no  spunk. 

"  No,  I'll  not  go  home,"  he  said,  emphatically, 
when  he  had  revolved  the  subject  in  all  its  bearings. 

He  was  a  little  rested  now,  and  his  courage 
revived  a  little.  He  couldn't  help  wishing  this 
home  was  like  his  grandfather's.  He  thought  it 
would  be  a  real  pleasure  to  work  on  a  farm  if  he 
could  only  live  with  such  people  as  his  grandfather 
and  grandmother.  They  were  so  kind  and  intelligent, 
and  their  home  so  pleasant,  that  it  would  be  delight- 
ful to  live  with  them.    They  never  made    any  one 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  121 

work  too  much,  nor  were  they  ever  stingy  of  their 
food. 

However,  the  question  was  not  whether  he  could 
work  with  such  people,  but  could  he  work  here? 
Here  was  a  place  offered  him,  and  he  was  penniless. 
If  he  should  leave,  he  had  nowhere  to  go.  He  might 
have  to  take  lodgings  in  a  bam  again,  and  where 
would  he  get  food?  It  would  be  better  to  stay 
here.  Yes,  he  would  stay.  Of  course  the  farmer 
would  pay  him,  and  then,  when  he  had  earned  some 
money,  he  would  go  home  and  show  his  father  what 
he  could  do. 

Having  made  this  resolution,  he  was  more  quiet. 
Naturally  brave,  he  determined  to  persevere.  He 
had  only  lost  his  courage  because  he  had  gone  in 
crooked  paths.  Had  he  followed  the  straight  road 
of  integrity,  no  boy  would  have  been  more  cour- 
ageous than  he.  Quick  in  his  impulses,  ardent  in 
his  nature,  with  a  brain  capable  of  enlarged  thought, 
and  a  social  nature  that  sympathized  with  all  about 
him,  he  might  have  been  respected  and  happy  but 
for  the  fatal  yielding  to  bad  companions.  Boys 
whom  he  well  knew  were  unsafe  advisers  he  had 
permitted  to  lead  him,  and  now  he  was  reaping  that 
which  he  had  sown. 


122  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Sleep  came  at  length,  the  eyelids  drooped,  but  not 
till  thoughts  of  Annette's  oft-repeated  words  had 
sounded  in  his  ears.  It  seemed  as  though  he  could 
hear  her  saying,  "Pray;"  and  one  brief  prayer  went 
from  his  heart  to  the  God  who  he  knew  was  watching 
him  with  love. 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  123 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    NEW    CLOTHES, 


lAVING  finally  concluded  that  the  cheapest 
way  of  paying  the  new  boy  was  by  providing 
his  clothes,  Mrs.  Higglesey's  next  plan  was 
to  procure  those  clothes  at  the  cheapest  rate.  This 
subject  occupied  her  thoughts  through  the  night,  and 
by  morning  she  had  an  arrangement  which  was  quite 
satisfactory.  When  Jotham  came  in  to  breakfast,  hav- 
ing been  at  the  barn  since  four,  as  on  the  preceding 
morning,  Mr.  Higglesey  once  more  mentioned  the 
subject  of  his  remaining. 

•'  You  see,  boy,"  he  said,  "  you  can't  earn  much  any- 
where this  winter.  If  you  can  get  your  board  and 
clothes,  it  is  all  you  can  expect.  I'll  give  you  that  if 
you'll  stay  with  me." 

"Can't  you  give  me  any  money?"  asked  Jotham, 
unwilling  to  work  on  quite  so  low  terms. 

"  "Wall,  no,  I  can't  aflFord  to ;  and  if  I  should,  you'd 


124  THE   CROOK  STRAIOHTENED. 

have  to  spend  it  for  clothes ;  so  it  would  be  as  loug 
as  it  is  broad." 

Jotham  hesitated.  He  wanted  to  earn  some  money 
so  that  he  might  have  some  to  show  his  father  if  he 
should  ever  dare  to  go  home. 

"You  can't  do  any  better,"  pursued  Mr.  Higglesey. 
"  Some  folks  only  give  a  boy  his  board  for  what 
he  does;  but  I  don't  want  to  be  hard, — I'll  give  you 
your  clothes." 

Jotham  consented  at  length.  He  could  see  no  better 
way.  He  glanced  at  himself,  and  thought  how  sadly 
he  had  soiled  his  pretty  school-suit,  and  how  much  he 
needed  another,  because  he  could  not  go  home  for 
others. 

"  This  is  only  fit  for  the  bam,"  he  said,  inwardly. 
"  It  is  covered  with  dirt  now." 

Mrs.  Higglesey,  too,  was  looking  at  the  suit,  and  she 
was  forming  a  more  economical  plan.  As  soon  as 
Jotham  had  assented  to  Mr.  Higglesey's  proposal, 
she  introduced  her  idea. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  them  clothes  you  have  on  are 
too  good  to  work  in.  Why  didn't  you  bring  some  old 
clothes  if  you  was  going  to  work  on  a  farm  ?  " 

"  These  are  my  old  clothes,"  he  answered,  simply. 

"  They  are !    Well,  they're  good  enough  to  wear  to 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  125 

meeting.  You  don't  need  anything  better.  "W#  can 
rub  the  dirt  off  a  little,  and  I  can  fix  you  up  a  suit 
to  work  in." 

There  was  a  slight  twitching  about  the  boy's  mouth. 
He  thought  of  the  handsome  garments,  hanging  in  his 
closet  at  home,  which  his  father  had  just  purchased; 
but  he  linew  they  were  useless  to  him  now.  He  must 
submit  to  the  circumstances  he  had  brought  upon 
himself. 

"What  are  you  thinking?"  asked  Mrs.  Higglesey, 
sternly.  "I  tell  you  these  clothes  are  too  good  to 
work  in.    There's  no  use  in  boys  feeling  stuck  up." 

"  I'll  do  as  you  think  best,"  answered  the  boy,  awed 
by  her  frowning  countenance. 

This  answer  pacified  her,  and  she  ate  her  breakfast 
in  self-satisfaction,  thinking  meanwhile  that  she  would 
that  very  day  make  the  boy  a  suit  of  clothes  from  some 
old  ones  Mr.  Higglesey  had  cast  aside. 

"  Come,"  said  the  farmer,  when  breakfast  was  fin- 
ished ;  and  Jotham  immediately  followed  him. 

"  What  ai'e  you  going  to  do?  "  asked  Mrs.  Higglesey, 
as  they  were  going  out 

"  Boil  potatoes,"  replied  the  man, 

"  Why  can't  you  do  it  alone?  I  want  Jotham." 


126  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"IBo  do  I  want  him,  and  I  reckon  I've  a  right  to 
him.    I  hire  him." 

"Yes,  and  who  pays  him?  Don't  I  have  all  the 
trouble  of  the  care  of  him  ?  Haven't  I  got  to  fix  his 
clothes,  and  do  everything  for  him?" 

"  Wall,  what  if  you  have  ?  You  can't  have  him  now. 
Chum  yourself." 

Mrs.  Higglesey  said  no  more,  and  Jotham  followed 
the  farmer  to  the  house  where  the  swine  were  kept. 
The  man  was  quite  delighted  with  his  bargain,  and 
was  very  jocose. 

"  I  reckoned  you  might  get  hungry,"  he  said ;  "  so  I 
thought  we'd  boil  up  a  kettleful  for  you." 

"You  going  to  boil  all  those?"  asked  Jotham,  in 
surprise,  as  the  man  brought  forward  some  baskets  of 
potatoes  and  apples. 

"Yes.  This  won't  last  long.  You  bring  some 
water.  Take  those  pails  and  fill  up  the  kettles  here, 
while  I  fix  the  potatoes." 

It  was  not  very  agreeable  work;  but  Jotham  knew 
he  must  accept  whatever  was  ordered  him.  He 
brought  the  large  pails  full  of  water  from  the  trough 
which  had  been  filled  by  his  own  labor,  then  made  the 
fires  under  the  kettles,  and  then  sat  down  to  watch. 
The  odor  of   the    place  was  \"try  disagreeable,   for 


THE   CROOK  STnAIGHTENED.  127 

several  h'ogs  had  compartments  within  the  build  fl^, 
and  the  steam  from  the  kettles  was  not  very  sweet. 
Yet  the  boy  was  thankful  to  sit  here,  for  it  was  com- 
parative rest,  and  the  labors  of  the  previous  day  had 
caused  a  soreness  throughout  his  system.  The  po- 
tatoes were  nearly  cooked,  and  he  was  sitting  with  his 
head  resting  wearily  on  a  bench  near,  when  some  one 
suddenly  accosted  him. 

"  Holloa,  here !  "  said  the  voice. 

Jotham  raised  his  eyes,  and  saw  before  him  a  man 
in  a  laborer's  garb. 

"Holloa,  here!"  repeated  the  man.  "Where's 
Higglesey  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Jotham.  "  In  the  house, 
or  at  the  bam." 

"  And  who  are  yon?  "  continued  the  man. 

"Jotham  Wilson,  sir." 

"  Jotham  Wilson !  Well,  that's  a  new  name  to  me. 
You  don't  live  in  these  parts,  I  take  it." 

"  I'm  going  to  live  here,  sir." 

Jotham  looked  in  the  man's  face  as  he  replied,  and, 
in  spite  of  his  dejection,  there  was  a  brightness  in  his 
eyes,  and  his  replies  were  in  a  gentlemanly  manner. 
The  man  gazed  at  him  a  moment. 

"  Are  you  related  to  Mr.  Higglesey? " 


128  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

^  No,  sir;  I'm  going  to  work  for  him." 

"You  arel  "Well,  you've  got  a  tough  one  to  worlc 
for,  that's  a  fact.  Hell  grind  your  eye-teeth  out  of 
you.  You  don't  look  like  a  farmer's  boy.  Where  did 
you  come  from?" 

*'  From  Boston." 

"You  did!  Well,  you  look  like  it.  But  I  tell  you, 
you  must  look  out  for  Higglesey.    He's  a  sharp  one." 

"  Could  I  do  any  better?  "  asked  the  boy,  encouraged 

by  the  friendly  tones  of  his  visitor.    "  Do  you  know 

I 
of  anybody  that  wants  a  boy  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  can't  say  I  do.  It's  pretty  hard  to  find 
places  at  this  time  of  year.  But  I'll  go  to  the  barn,  I 
guess,  and  see  if  Higglesey's  there." 

There  was  a  blunt  honesty  in  the  speech  of  this  man 
that  went  straight  to  Jotham's  heart.  He  thought  how 
much  he  would  like  to  work  for  such  a  man.  But  no, 
he  must  stay  where  he  was,  for  this  man  had  con- 
firmed Mr.  Higglesey's  words  that  there  were  few  who 
wanted  to  hire  at  this  season. 

"Well,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  must  stay  here,  and 
do  the  best  I  can.  I'll  try  to  please,  anyway.  Jotham 
Wilson  is  not  the  boy  to  flinch.  I'll  show  my  father 
that  I  can  do  something." 

As  he  said  this,  he  straiglitened  back  and  put  his 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  129 

hand  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  drew  it  out,  and  in  it  was 
the  pearl-handled  knife  his  grandmother  gave  him. 
He  looked  at  it  a  moment,  and  the  promise  he  made 
the  giver  recurred  to  him. 

"I  did  promise  my  grandmother  I'd  try  to  be  good," 
he  mused.  "  I  wonder  what  she  thinks  of  me  now. 
Of  course  Annette  has  written  that  I  am  gone.  "Well, 
grandfather  and  grandmother'll  never  think  much  of 
me  again.  There's  no  use  in  my  going  home.  Every- 
body would  look  upon  me  with  contempt.  So  I'll  stay 
here  and  work." 

When  he  went  in  to  dinner,  he  found  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey  very  busy.  A  pair  of  coarse  gray  pants  lay  be- 
side her  to  which  the  shears  had  been  freely  applied. 
They  had  seen  much  service,  but  by  turning,  cutting 
away  the  seams,  and  some  patching,  Mrs.  Higglesey 
said  they  would  wear  a  long  spell  yet.  Then  there  was 
a  coat  shortened  to  a  jacket,  and  an  old  striped  frock 
awaiting  diminution.  ' 

Jotham  looked  at  the  garments  and  wondered  how 
he  would  look  when  he  should  be  arrayed  in  them ;  but 
he  said  not  a  word.  He  had  resolved  to  make  the  best 
of  everything,  and  "  after  all,"  he  thought,  "  it  matters 
not  about  my  clothes.  Nobody  knows  me  here,  and  I 
9 


130  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

don't  want  they  should  know  me.  If  I  could  only  earn 
some  money,  I'd  like  it." 

There  was  a  dish  of  hot  baked  beans  upon  the 
'  table,  and  this  constituted  the  dinner.  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey's  attention  was  flilly  occupied  with  her  sewing, 
and  dinner  was  of  very  slight  importance.  Jotham 
was  fond  of  beans,  and  he  ate  freely ;  but  he  did  wish 
he  could  have  a  piece  of  pie  afterwards,  such  as  his 
grandmother  always  had;  but  no  pie  was  produced, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  be  contented  without. 

"  You  needn't  say  one  word,  Enoch  Higglesey,"  said 
the  woman  after  dinner.  "  I'm  going  to  have  this  boy 
to  help  me,  and  that's  a  fact.  If  I  can't  have  him,  I 
won't  work  for  him." 

"  Wall,  wall,  old  woman,  take  your  own  way." 

"I  reckon  I  will.  I'm  going  to  have  some  butter 
out  of  that  cream ;  so  pull  up  the  churn  here,  boy,  and 
go  at  it.    We'll  give  it  one  more  try." 

All  the  afternoon  the  boy  sat  there,  churning,  churn- 
ing, as  he  did  the  day  before.  The  hours  seemed  in- 
terminable, for  Mrs.  Higglesey  scarcely  spoke.  She 
was  hastening  her  work,  for  she  saw  that  Jotham  was 
injuring  the  clothes  he  was  wearing,  and  her  prudence 
suggested  that  they  ought  immediately  to  be  hung 
away  for  church  use.    In  her  opinion,  such  clothes 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  131 

otight  never  to  be  worn  except  on  great  occasions, 
such  as  Sunday  sen'ices,  funerals,  or  rare  visits. 

Jotham  looked  often  at  his  hands  as  he  churned, 
for  many  blisters  puffed  up  in  watery  tenderness. 
Some  of  them  broke;  and,  as  the  iron-crank  chafed 
them,  they  reminded  the  sufferer  of  their  presence 
continually.  But  in  spite  of  all  their  exertions,  re- 
gardless of  execrations,  and  heedless  of  continued 
whirling,  the  cream  refused  to  yield  its  buttery  par- 
ticles. 

"  I  never  did  see  anything  so  mean,"  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey  said  that  night,  in  despair;  though  Jotham 
thought  he  had  greater  cause  for  complaint  than  she, 
for  his  arms  were  in  such  pain  that  he  could  hardly 
hold  them  still. 

"I'll  carry  the  cream  to  Marston,  to-morrow,"  Mr. 
Higglesey  said.  "  Don't  you  want  to  go  up  and  buy 
something?" 

"  No ;  how  do  you  think  I  can  buy  when  my  butter 
won't  come,  and  my  cream  must  go  for  half  price? 
You  get  all  you  can  out  of  Marston." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that,  Betsey.  I  know  how 
to  manage  him." 

The  next  morning,  when  the  four  o'clock  summons 


132  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

awoke  the  weary  workman,  he  found  his  new  suit 
ready. 

"It  takes  me  to  do  things  quick,"  Mrs.  Higglesey 
said,  as  the  boy  presented  himself  in  his  new  attire. 
"  Now  you  look  as  though  you  could  work.  But  I  tell 
you,  Enoch,  he  ought  to  have  some  stouter  boots." 

"  I  can't  afford  to  buy  boots,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Well,  but  you  see  you'll  have  to  buy  some  by  and 
by  if  you  let  him  wear  these;  'cause  you  see,  he'll 
wear  them  out.  Now  I  tell  you,  there's  a  pair  of  old 
boots  upstairs  that  got  kind  of  shrunk  so  you  couldn't 
wear  'em;  they'd  be  just  right  for  him.  They're 
under  the  eaves  up  there." 

Mr.  Higglesey  ascended  the  back  stairs  and  soon 
returned  with  some  boots  that  struck  terror  into  the 
mind  of  the  expectant  wearer.  He  had  accepted  the 
other  garments  without  a  murmur,  but  against  these 
boots  he  ventured  to  remonstrate. 
.  "I  can't  wear  them ;  I'm  sure  I  can't." 

"  Betsey,  fetch  the  tallow,"  rejoined  Mr.  Higglesey. 
"  I'll  fix  'em  so  he  can  wear  'em.  They're  a  little  stiff 
now,  that's  all." 

"But  they  are  too  large,"  interposed  Jotham,  dis- 
tressed at  the  idea  of  wearing  the  huge,  clumped 
thinsrs. 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  133 

"  That's  all  the  better,"  returned  the  man,  persist- 
ently warming  the  tallow;  "they  won't  pinch  your 
feet.  There,  now,  see,  when  I  rub  on  the  tallow  they 
grow  soft.  That's  a  good  idee,  Betsey,  getting  these 
down.  They'll  make  a  capital  pair  for  barn-work. 
Put  'em  on  here,  boy,  and  see  hdw  they  work." 

Jotham  reluctantly  drew  off  his  nicely  fitting  shoes, 
and  the  farmer  noticed  his  socks. 

"Just  look  there,  Betsey;  his  stockings  are  as  fine 
as  silk.  What's  the  use  in  having  such  city  fixiu's  on 
a  farm?  They  won't  last  him  a  week.  Haint  you 
got  some  old,  coarse  ones  of  mine  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  they'd  be  too  big.  He  couldn't  wear 
'em." 

Then  a  sudden  thought  occurred  to  her,  and  she 
continued,  — 

"  But  I  know  what  I  can  do.  I  can  cut  the  tops  off 
from  some  of  mine.  It  takes  me  to  plan,  Enoch  Illg- 
glescy.    I  don't  know  what  you'd  do  without  me." 

Jotham's  feet  were  soon  equipped,  notwithstanding 
his  remonstrances.  The  worthy  couple  seemed  to 
consider  his  wishes  as  the  last  thing  to  be  consulted. 
Economy  and  expediency  were  the  main  issues. 
What  cared  they  for  the  tastes  of  a  boy !  They  were 
mure  idle   fantasies,  too  whimsical  to  be  mentioned. 


134  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  There,"  said  Mrs.  Higglesey,  with  a  shrug  of  sat- 
isfaction, "  now  you  look  complete.  No,  you're  not 
quite  fixed  yet.  That  cap  wlU  just  get  spoiled  if  you 
wear  it  all  the  time,  and  there's  an  old  fur  one  up- 
stairs; 'twill  make  you  warm  as  toast.  I'll  get  it 
in  a  minute." 

When  she  came  back  with  the  cap,  she  brought  also 
a  pair  of  mittens. 

"  There,  now,"  she  said,  as  the  boy  stood  complete 

before  her,   "that's  common  sense.    You  look   like 

*work.     There's    no   use    in  having   these    nice  city 

clothes  fan-dangling  round ;  they're  good  for  nothing. 

Good  stout  stuff  is  what  we  ought  to  wear." 

In  truth,  Jotham  presented  a  very  comical  picture  as 
he  stood  there  in  his  new  dress.  He  seemed  like 
a  gem  metamorphosed :  a  man's  cowhide  boots ; 
coarse,  gray  pants;  a  striped,  farmer's  frock  exteud- 
ing  below  the  knees,  broad  across  the  shoulders, 
because  that  under  it  there  was  a  spencer  made  by 
cutting  off  the  skirts  of  a  coat ;  a  fur  cap,  too  loose, 
into  which  the  head  plunged  too  far;  and  blue, 
striped  mittens. 

But  under  this  cap  there  glistened  a  pair  of  bold, 
dark,  intelligent  eyes;  and  the  handsome,  oval  face 
looked  lilic  beauty  peering  between  jagged  clouds. 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  135 

The  whiteness  of  the  cheeks  was  not  yet  tanned  by 
exposure,  nor  the  expression  tamed  by  long-continued 
subjection  and  labor.  It  was  like  changing  the  shell 
of  a  nut  while  the  meat  remained  the  same.  No  one 
could  have  known  the  boy  without  looking  directly 
into  his  face ;  but  a  glance  there  showed  that  it  was 
Jotham  still.  Kotwithstanding  his  reversed  situation, 
and  in  spite  of  the  mortifications  he  had  endured, 
there  was  a  dauntless  defiance  in  his  eye  which 
showed  that  the  spirit  within  was  neither  willingly 
conquered,  nor  long  to  be  kept  in  subjection.  ^ 

He  raised  his  feet  slowly  and  walked  out  with  the 
lantern  in  his  hand.  The  weight  of  the  boots  pre- 
vented the  light,  elastic  step  which  was  his  wont; 
but,  as  he  passed  out  into  the  chill,  morning  air,  he 
was  compelled  to  admit  that  if  his  dress  was  not 
beautiful,  it  certainly  was  more  comfortable ;  and  he 
understood  why  the  farmer  had  not  complained  of  the 
cold  when  he  had  sufifered  so  much.  The  wind  could 
not  penetrate  through  these  garments,  and  that  in  a 
measure  reconciled  him  to  the  change. 

Mr.  Higglesey  lingered  a  moment  in  the  house, 
and  his  wife  expressed  her  satisfaction. 

"I  tell  you,  Enoch,  we've  done  a  good  thing.  It 
hasn't  cost  a  single  cent  to  fit   him   out,  and   the 


136  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

suit  we've  saved  will  be  good  enough  to  wear  to 
meeting  all  winter.  But  there's  one  thing  I  don't 
understand." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Why,  I  don't  see  how  he  came  to  be  off  out 
here  alone.  There's  something  queer  about  it.  He 
don't  belong  to  no  poor  family.  He  says  these  are 
his  oldest  clothes,  and  you  see  these  are  real  good. 
And  then  his  maimers  are  so  nice!  How  he  bows 
and  says  'thank  you,'  and  how  he  always  adds  the 
'sir'  when  he  speaks  to  you!  He  must  have  a 
good  father  and  mother,  and  I  don't  see  how  they 
came  to  send  him  out  into  the  country  at  this 
time  of  year,  in  search  of  work,  without  a  penny 
in  his  pocket." 

"Wall,  now,  Betsey,  I  s'pose  his  father  got  a 
little  common  sense  into  him,  and  thought  'twas 
about  time  the  boy  earned  his  own  living,  lie 
didn't  want  him  cooped  up  to  die  in  the  great  city ; 
he  thought  'twould  be  better  to  send  him  into  tlie 
country  and  let  him  hunt  for  himself.  Showed  his 
father  wan't  a  fool." 

"But  why  didn't  he  give  him  some  money?" 
continued  Mrs.  Higglesey  with  a  woman's  curiosity. 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  137 

"Oh,  maybe  he  did.  Likely  as  not  the  boy  has 
spent  it.     You  can't  tell." 

"No,  I  can't  tell,"  she  continued;  "but  it  seems 
queer.    I'll  quiz  him  some  day,  I  know." 

Mrs.  Higglesey  went  to  her  household  operations 
quite  contented  with  the  result  of  her  sagacity  con- 
cerning the  clothes,  but  not  so  well  pleased  re- 
specting her  cream.  She  was  fretflil  over  that  as 
she  poured  it  from  the  churn  into  the  jar,  and  kicked 
the  cat  who  came  to  eat  the  droppings.  Nor  was 
she  very  sweet-tempered  at  the  breakfast  table. 
The  loss  of  two  or  three  dollars  on  her  butter  was 
not  to  be  patiently  endured,  and,  by  way  of  com- 
pensation, she  spoiled  her  face  with  a  frown,  and 
spoke  sharply  to  her  husband.  He  regarded  her 
little,  or  answered  her  in  her  own  style,  eating  qui- 
etly, as  though  used  to  domestic  storms.  But  to 
Jotham  her  manners  were  very  unpleasant. 

"I  do  wish  she  was  like  my  grandmother,"  he 
thought.  "  Grandmother's  men  sit  down  at  the  table 
with  her,  and  she  is  so  smiling  and  pleasant  that 
she  makes  them  all  happy." 

But  as  he  saw  that  Mr.  Higglesey  was  regard- 
less of  her  petulance,  he  was  less  annoyed  tlian 
he  would  otherwise  have  been.    The  strange  dress 


138  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

which  he  had  been  compelled  to  assume  so  disfig- 
ured him  that  he  could  hardly  recoguize  himself  at 
tlie  table.  The  loose  frock  sleeve  dipped  into  the 
coffee,  the  frock  itself  floundered  out  on  to  his  plate, 
and  his  feet  seemed  pinned  to  the  floor  by  the  heavy 
boots.  He  found,  too,  that  he  must  eat  very  fast. 
Mr.  Higglesey  could  never  spare  time  for  cei-emo- 
nies  at  the  table.  "Help  yourself  and  get  done," 
was  his  motto ;  and  unless  Jotham  made  equal  haste, 
he  found  Mrs.  Higglesey  clearing  the  dishes  and 
food  from  before  his  eyes. 

"I  can  never  bear  to  see  a  table  standing  round 
all  day,"  she  muttered,  as  Jotham  lingered  to  finish 
his  coffee.  "It's  just  a  sign  of  laziness,"  and  the 
boy  understood  that  henceforth  he  was  expected 
to  leave  the  table  at  the  same  time  with  his  mas- 
ter. 

"I'm  going  up  town,''  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  wlien 
they  were  once  more  at  the  barn.  "You  may  curry 
and  harness  Billy  into  the  single  wagon.  I'm  going 
to  engage  my  turkeys.  It'll  be  Thanksgiving  pretty 
soon,  and  they'll  sell  best  then.  You  must  feed  'em 
up  well  to-day.  The  fatter  they  git,  the  more 
they'll  bring.  Mix  up  some  meal  for  the  oxen, 
take  good  care    of    the  cows,  feed   the    sheep,  cleai 


THE   CROOK  STRAIOBTENED,  139 

the  stables,  look  after  the  eggs,  give  Tom  a  good 
dressing,  shell  out  some  corn  so  as  to  have  it  ready, 
feed  the  pigs,  turn  the  cattle  out  to  water,  give 
the  hens  some  more  corn,  pull  down  hay  to  have 
it  ready  for  night,  get  in  the  woman's  wood  and 
water,  and  then  go  down  cellar  and  pick  over  some 
apples  that  need  it.  Betsey'll  show  you  where  they 
are." 

Jotham  listened  in  astonishment.  How  was  he 
to  accomplish  all  those  things  in  that  brief  time? 
—  for  Mr.  Higglesey  said  he  should  be  back  before 
noon.  The  clearing  of  the  stables  alone  seemed  to 
him  more  than  he  could  do ;  yet  there  was  no  alter- 
native, and  what  must  be  done  might  as  well  be 
done  well.  He  determined  to  try  and  please,  hoping 
he  should  fare  better  by  and  by.  He  was  busily 
engaged  at  his  work,  when  footsteps  arrested  his 
attention,  and  glancing  around  he  saw  a  boy  of 
his  own  age. 

The  b(rsr  walked  through  the  barn  in  an  indifferent 
manner,  examining  boxes,  rakes,  and  hay  at  his 
leisure,  and  scanning  Jotham  with  a  curious  eye. 
Jotham  watched  him  but  said  nothing.  The  boy 
looked  at  him  with  a  wondering  smile.  Jotham 
knew  that,  from  his  big  boots  to  his  fur  cap,  every- 


140  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

thing  was  passing  under  investigation,  and  a  crim- 
son flush  overspread  his  face.  He  did  not  want  to 
speak,  and  'finally  turned  away,  that  his  features 
might  not  be  seen.  At  length  the  boy  drew  near 
and  spoke,  — 

"  Holloa ! " 

Jotham  replied  with  the  same  expression. 

"Are  you  Higglesey's  new  boy?"  continued  the 
stranger. 

"I  suppose  so.    I'm  going  to  work  for  him." 

""Well,  so  father  said.  He  said  he  saw  you  here, 
but,  by  Jimminy,  he  described  a  different  fellow  from 
you." 

Jotham  blushed.  He  was  deeply  mortified,  for  he 
knew  that  the  strange  boy  was  amusing  himself  at 
his  expense.  He  did  not  reply  for  some  moments; 
then  he  asked,  — 

"Was  it  your  father  I  saw  here  yesterday?" 
"  I  expect  it  was.  He  said  he  saw  a  plaguy 
pretty  fellow  at  work  here,  dressed  nice  enough  to 
go  to  meeting,  and  he  guessed  you'd  have  a  hard 
time  with  old  Higglesey.  But,  Jupiter!  you  look  as 
though  you  was  a  match  for  the  old  fellow  himself. 
"Where  did  you  get  your  clothes?" 

Jotham  was   displeased,    and  answered,    pertly, — 


THE    CROOK   STRAIGHTENED.  141 

"  Is  that  any  of  your  business  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  it's  none  of  my  business,  only  you 
don't  look  a  bit  as  father  described." 

"What  if  I  don't?  Tell  your  father  to  teach  his 
son  better  manners." 

"Oh,  you're  smart!"  replied  the  boy,  a  little  sur- 
prised at  Jotham's  bold  reply.  He  thought  a  boy  in 
that  garb  could  be  insulted  with  impunity,  but  he 
found  that  beneath  that  shaggy  cap  there  was  an 
eye  that  could  flash  and  a  mouth  that  could  speak 
for  itself. 

"Don't  be  offended,"  he  rejoined,  after  a  moment. 
"  I  came  down  on  purpose  to  see  you.  My  name 
is  Dan  Trencher.    What  is  your  name  ? " 

"Jotham  Wilson." 

"Well,  we  know  each  other  now.  Say,  how  do 
you  like  Ma'am  Higglesey?  " 

"Mrs.  Higglesey,  do  you  mean?"  replied  Jotham. 
"I  like  her  very  well." 

"  Pshaw,  now,"  responded  the  boy.  "  I  know  you 
don't!  There  never  was  a  man  or  boy  that  lived 
here  that  liked  her.  I  guess  you  didn't  know  'em 
or  you  wouldn't  have  come.  You'll  git  enough  of 
it  before  winter's  over,  I'll  warrant." 


142  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

At  that  moment  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Higglesey  was 
heard,  calling,  — 

"Come,  Jotham,  hurry  round!  The  water's  wait- 
ing to  scald  the  meal.    Don't  be  all  day  coming." 

Jotham  started  for  the  house,  and  Dan  ran  off, 
laughing. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha  I  That's  the  way  you'll  have  to  take 
it.  I'm  glad  I  aint  in  your  shoes  —  no  —  boots,  I 
mean.  Jimminy!  They're  big  enough  for  you  and 
me,"  and  the  boy  gave  the  boots  a  look  of  laughing 
scorn. 


Tff£    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  143 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

jotham's  thanksgiving. 

^AN  TEENCHER  burst  into  the  kitchen  of  his 
own  home  with  a  loud  laugh,  and,  as  he  saw 
his  father,  he  paused  and  spoke,  — 

"  "Well,  father,  that's  a  lunny  looking  fellow  you  sent 
me  down  to  see !  You  said  he  looked  like  a  first-rate 
fellow,  and  was  dressed  like  a  gentleman." 

"  So  he  was,"  replied  Mr.  Trencher.  '•  He  sat  there 
watching  the  fires,  and  I  thought  to  myself,  '  Higgle- 
sey's  got  a  new  fellow  to  operate  on.  A  smart  one 
too.'    I  declare  I  pity  any  boy  that  gets  In  there." 

"  But,  father,  he  can't  be  anything  or  he  wouldn't  be 
rigged  out  in  old  Higglesey's  clothes ;  "  and  then  the 
boy  laughed  again  at  the  recollection  of  the  ludicrous 
spectacle  Jotham  presented. 

"Why,  you  see,  father,"  he  continued,  "he  had  on 
that  old  fur  cap  that  Higglesey  has  worn  these  twenty 
years." 


144  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"Twenty  years !"  interposed  Mr.  Trencher.  "Not 
quite  so  long  as  that,  I  guess." 

"Yes,  it  is!  I  heard  Higglesey  say  so  last  winter. 
Well,  he  had  on  that  cap  and  a  frock  cut  down,  and 
such  a  pair  of  boots !  Oh  my !  Such  boots !  You 
ought  to  see  them.  Why,  there's  seventeen  patches 
on  them,  they  are  wrinkled  and  turned  up  at  the  toes, 
and  the  soles  look  as  though  they  had  been  scorched 
through." 

Again  the  boy  laughed,  and  his  mother  replied  to 
him, — 

"  Probably  he's  some  poor,  homeless  ooy,  wnom 
Mr.  Higglesey  gets  for  a  trifle.  You  know  he'd  never 
pay  anything  if  he  could  avoid  it." 

"  He  didn't  act  nor  look  like  a  poor  boy  when  I  saw 
him,"  replied  Mr.  Trencher.  "  He  spoke  like  a  gen- 
tleman." 

"  He  spoke  well  enough  to  me,"  returned  Dan,  "  and 
he's  got  a  good  face.  But  he  must  be  a  sappy,  or 
he  wouldn't  wear  old  Higglesey's  clothes.  He  got 
a  little  mad  with  me  because  I  laughed." 

"  Well,  you  shouldn't  laugh  at  him,"  observed  Mrs. 
Trencher.     "  Probably  he's  some  poor  boy." 

That  afternoon  Mrs.  Trencher  called  to  see  her 
neighbor,  and    as  they  sat  together,  knitting,  they 


THE    CROOK   STRAIGHTENED.  145 

rehearsed  to  each  other  the  events  of  the  last  few 
days.  Mrs.  Higglesey  gave  a  full  account  of  her  trials 
in  churning,  and  Mrs.  Trencher  described  her  super- 
human efforts  in  house-cleaning,  preparing  for  Thanks- 
giving, and  entertaining  company.  The  two  women 
when  together,  habitually  related  to  each  other  all 
their  domestic  matters,  although  when  separated, 
Mrs.  Trencher  declared  Mrs.  Higglesey  was  the 
closest,  meanest  woman  she  ever  saw,  and  Mrs.  Hig- 
glesey always  insisted  that  Mrs.  Trencher  was  the 
greatest  brag  the  world  afforded.        » 

"  She's  always  telling  what  she  does,"  Mrs  Higgle- 
sey would  say.  "  It's  a  pity  she  couldn't  see  what  / 
have  to  do !  " 

But  Mrs.  Trencher  had  an  advantage  over  her 
neighbor  in  this  particular,  for  she  had  children,  and 
Mrs.  Higglesey  had  none.  Therefore  Mrs,  Trencher 
would  never  for  a  moment  admit  that  Mrs.  Higglesey's 
labors  could  equal  hers,  at  which  Mrs.  Higglesey, 
desirous  of  being  considered  the  greatest  worker  of 
the  neighborhood,  was  exceedingly  tried,  and  it  was 
with  secret  satisfaction  that  she  boasted  this  day 
of  her  labors  for  Jotham. 

"  I  declare ! "  she  remarked,  her  large,  brown  face 
expressing  complacency,  "  top  of  my  churning,  I 
10 


146  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

had  to  go  and  make  a  suit  for  our  new  boy  to  work 
in.  He  came  here  with  just  nothing  at  all  but  the 
clothes  he  had  on,  and  I  fixed  him  out  from  top 
to  toe." 

A  smile  lurked  in  Mrs.  Trencher's  eye  as  she 
thought  of  the  description  Dan  had  given  her  of 
this  suit,  but  ere  she  had  time  to  reply,  Jotham  came 
in.  He  started  as  he  saw  a  strange  woman,  and,  as 
he  noticed  her  quick  glance  taking  an  inventory  of 
his  apparel,  his  face  flushed.  He  was  cold,  and  had 
come  in  hastily,  but  Mrs.  Trencher  could  not  fail 
of  observing  what  her  husband  and  son  had  remarked, 
that  he  was  not  an  ordinary  boy.  She  noticed  that 
every  word  he  uttered  was  expressed  with  grammat- 
ical accuracy,  and  when  she  went  home,  she  declared 
that  it  was  strange  he  should  be  there. 

"He  must  have  a  strange  father,"  she  said.  "No 
father,  who  cared  for  his  son,  would  let  him  go  there 
to  work.  But  then,  to  be  sure,  his  father  don't  know 
what  kind  of  a  place  it  is,  probably,  for  Mr.  Higglesey 
picked  him  up  in  the  street." 

"  Well,"  responded  Mr.  Trencher,  buttoning  his  coat 
to  go  out,  "he'll  have  to  work  some  if  he  stays 
there." 

"  I  reckon  he  will,"  replied  she.    "I'll  warrant  he 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED  147 

did  all  that  churning  she  tells  about.  I  know  her. 
She  wants  to  make  out  that  she  does  as  much  as  I." 

"■"Well,  well,"  laughed  Mr.  Trencher,  "you  women 
are  like  honey  when  you  are  together,  and  vinegar 
when  your  backs  are  turned." 

"  That  is  just  what  the  men  are,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Trencher.  "  You'll  talk  about  Higglesey  all  day,  and 
then  go  right  down  to  see  him  at  night,  as  though  he 
was  your  brother." 

Mr.  Trencher  laughed  and  went  out,  and  his  wife, 
watching,  saw  that  he  went  to  the  very  house  from 
which  she  had  just  come. 

"  Talk  about  women ! "  she  uttered,  scornfully. 
"  They  are  no  worse  than  the  men,  and  I  can  prove 
it." 

As  the  days  passed  along,  Jotham  found  that  his 
duties  increased.  Numerous  as  they  were  at  first, 
they  grew  in  numbers  every  day.  If  Mr.  Higglesey 
failed  of  keeping  him  busy,  Mrs.  Higglesey  always  had 
a  fund  in  reserve.  Her  capacity  for  inventing  work 
was  exhaustless.  At  a  moment's  notice  she  could 
pfoduce  half  a  dozen  different  directions  in  which 
the  boy  was  needed  at  once.  When  work  outside 
failed,  there  was  plenty  in  the  house,  and  one  day, 
when  Dan  Trencher  came  in  suddenly,  he  saw  Jotham 


148  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

standing  beside  the  kitchen  table,  with  his  frock  laid 
one  side,  his  shirt  sleeves  rolled  above  his  elbow, 
a  large  pan  before  him  containing  a  colander,  through 
which  he  was  vigorously  rubbing  a  quantity  of  stewed 
pumpkin.  ._ 

Dan  took  a  seat  by  the  stove  and  watched  the 
operation.  Poor  Jotham  blushed,  and  would  have 
crawled  through  any  aperture  to  escape  those  fun- 
loving,  eager  eyes,  and  Dan,  flilly  conscious  of  the 
ejafect  he  was  producing,  never  once  ceased  looking, 
till  Jotham  turned  his  back  fully  toward  him.  Mrs. 
Iligglesey  was  bustling  about  with  great  ostentation, 
her  heavy  steps  jarring  the  kitchen  floor  as  she  passed 
from  the  stove  to  the  table,  thence  to  the  pantry  and 
back  again.  i 

"  I've  had  so  much  to  do,"  she  remarked,  apologet- 
ically, to  Dan,  as  though  he  were  a  woman,  "  I  haiut 
got  near  ready  for  Thanksgiving,  though  it  comes  day 
after  to-morrow.  I  s'pose  your  mother's  got  e'ena- 
most  done  her  fixin'." 

"Don't  know,"  answered  Dan,  carelessly,  "I  don't 
go  into  women's  matters." 

Jotham's  hands  rubbed  the  faster  at  this  sly  thrust 
which  he  understood  as  aimed  at  himself.  His  nature 
longed  to  reply,  and  to  fling  itself  back  upon  the  boy 


THE   CROOK  STRAiaaTENED.  149 

who  dared  to  taant  his  misfortunes ;  but  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey  was  watching,  and  he  continued  silently  at  his 
work.  The  woman,  however,  was  a  little  piqued,  aud 
she  retorted,  — 

"  Well,  'twouldn't  hurt  you  to  know  something  about 
your  mother's  work.    Laziness  is  no  good." 

"Who  wants  to  wear  out  with  work?  "  asked  Dan, 
a  smile  drawing  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"  It's  better  to  wear  out  than  to  rust  out,"  returned 
the  woman,  emphatically,  bringing  down  the  roller 
with  which  she  was  preparing  her  pastry. 

"Pshaw!  nol"  answered  Dan.  "You  can't  mend 
an  old,  worn-out  thing,  but  you  can  scour  off  a  little 
rust  any  time,  and  it  will  be  as  good  as  new." 

"I  never  knew  laziness  come  to  anything,"  re- 
sponded the  woman.  "  I  want  no  lazy  folks  about  me. 
— Kub  that  a  little  harder,  Jotham.  Get  all  through 
that  you  can.  —  Have  you  sold  your  turkeys,  Dan?  " 

"I  believe  so,"  answered  Dan,  carelessly,  feigning 
Ignorance  purposely  to  excite  Mrs.  Higglesey. 

"  You  believe  so ! "  she  answered.  "  Don't  you 
know  ?  What'll  you  be  good  for  when  you  grow  up 
without  you  learn  something  now?" 

"  I'll  be  good  to  swallow  bread  and  butter,"  rejoined 
the  boy.  ' 


150  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"Yes,  I'll  warrant  you  are  good  at  that,  now.  Boys 
always  are.  —  Here,  Jotham,  if  you've  finished  that 
pumpkin,  put  the  leavings  in  the  swUl,  and  bring  the 
choppiug-tray  here.  I've  got  to  have  some  apples 
chopped,  and  you  may  as  well  help." 

"I  ought  to  feed  the  cows,"  replied  Jotham.  "Mr. 
Higglesey  left  directions." 

"  Well,  be  spry,  I  must  have  you  back  here  soon." 

These  few  words  of  Jotham  contrasted  strangely 
with  the  language  of  his  mistress.  Her  broad  vowels 
and  harsh  consonants  were  little  like  the  smooth  ac- 
cents and  polished  utterance  of  the  well-bred  school- 
boy. Dan  marked  the  difl"erence,  and,  in  spite  of 
Jotham's  humiliating  situation  and  coarse  dress,  he 
respected  him.  He  could  not  fail  of  perceiving  the 
handsome  forehead,  the  intelligent  countenance,  and 
evident  superiority  of  the  boy  whom  he  had  been 
ridiculing,  and  when  Jotham  spoke  with  so  much 
propriety  to  Mrs.  Higglesey,  Dan  forgot  the  boots  in 
the  new  respect  he  suddenly  conceived  for  the  young 
workman. 

"  He's  no  sappy,  after  all,"  was  his  inward  exclama- 
tion, as  he  took  his  cap  and  followed  Jotham  to  the 
barn. 

"  I'm  glad  that  torment's  gone ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 


THE  CnOOK  STRAIGHTENED.  151 

Higglesey,  when  Dan  had  closed  the  door.  "  Pie 
needn't  pretend  he  doesn't  know  about  his  mother's 
work.  He  does  know,  and  I  know  he  was  watching  to 
see  how  much  shortening  I  put  in  my  pie-crust,  so  he 
might  tell  her  of  it.  Well,  I  don't  care,  I  won't  put  all 
my  lard  into  my  pies  when  it's  selling  for  twenty-five 
cents  a  pound,  and  that's  a  fact.  There's  no  need  of 
having  pie-crust  break  ofi"  at  a  touch." 

When  Jotham  returned,  Dan  came  with  him.  Boys 
were  scarce  in  that  vicinity,  and  Dan  really  longed  for 
a  new  companion.  Anything  was  better  than  nothing, 
he  thought,  and  he  was  determined  to  be  friendly 
with  this  new  boy,  even  though  he  was  obliged  to  take 
him  iu  the  cast-off  clothing  of  "  old  Higglesey." 

But  as  he  became  acquainted  with  Jotham  he  cea.sed 
to  think  of  the  old  clothes,  and  involuntarily  yielded  that 
respect  to  him  which  inferiority  ever  gives  to  those 
more  advanced.  At  the  barn  they  had  talked  quite 
freely,  and  Dan  was  compelled  to  admit  that  Joihaiu 
was  no  "  sappy."  There  was  nothing  he  could  mention 
in  connection  with  boys'  plays  of  which  Jotham  was 
ignorant.  Indeed,  he  soon  found  himself  a  learner. 
Jotham  could  name  things  of  which  he  had  never 
heard,  and  he  began' to  feel  that  standing  in  old, 
wrinkled  boots,  though  twice  too  large,  was  no  in- 


152  THE   CROOK  STRAIOHTENED. 

jury  to  the  head.  He  followed  the  working-boy  from 
place  to  place  in  the  barn,  and  not  an  insult  escaped 
bis  lips. 

"  I  should  be  dreadful  lonely  here,"  he  remarked,  as 
they  were  going  back  into  the  house. 

Jotham  did  not  reply,  but  hastened  into  the  kitchen, 
where  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Higglesey  prevented 
farther  conversation.  Here  Jotham  chopped  and 
chopped  the  apple  destined  for  the  mince  pies,  while 
Dan  sat  by  with  his  feet  on  the  stove-hearth,  wonder- 
ing how  many  teeth  would  be  broken  by  eating  Mrs. 
Higglesey's  pastry.  He  laughingly  said  this  to  his 
mother  when  he  went  home,  declaring  that  Mrs.  Hig- 
glesey used  just  one  thimbleflil  of  shortening  to  every 
ten  pies. 

"  Tight  old  thing  ! "  he  said,  "  I  know  I'd  run  away 
before  I'd  work  for  her." 

"I  don't  believe  she  works  so  terrible  hard,"  re- 
sponded Mrs.  Trencher.  "  I  do  more  in  a  week  than 
she'd  do  in  a  fortnight.  What's  that  suit  of  clothes 
she  made  for  the  new  boy  ?  Only  old  clothes  cut  otT. 
Anybody  could  fix  them  in  half  an  hour.  But  there,  I 
oughtn't  to  talk  about  my  neighbors." 

Dan  was  accustomed  to  this  expression.  From  his 
earliest  youth  he  had  heard  it.    When  visitors  wore  at 


THE    CROOK  STBAIOHTENED.  153 

the  house,  and  his  mother  had  retailed  her  budget  of 
gossip,  she  invariably  added,  "  But  there,  I  oughtn't  to 
talis;  about  my  neighbors ; "  and  Dan  considered  the 
sentence  as  a  species  of  expiatory  utterance  by  which 
his  mother  cancelled  her  sin  of  scandal.  He  supposed 
it  quite  right  to  tear  an  inoffensive  person  to  tatters, 
if  only  at  the  end  this  sentence  was  added. 

Mrs.  Higglesey  was  glad  when  Dan  was  gone.  She 
immediately  despatched  Jotham  in  various  directions 
for  necessary  articles,  at  intervals  sending  him  to  the 
barn,  thus  by  her  prudent  and  thorough  care,  keeping 
everything  in  order  during  the  absence  of  her  husband 
who  had  gone  with  a  load  of  the  finest  turkeys  the 
neighborhood  could  produce. 

Mr.  Higglesey  returned  with  an  empty  wagon  but  a 
ftill  pocket. 

"  There's  no  mistake  about  our  turkeys,"  he  said  to 
his  wife,  clapping  his  hands  on  his  full  pocket-book. 
"  They  were  solid  fellows,  I  tell  ye.  I  got  five  dollars 
more  than  I  expected." 

The  woman's  eyes  glittered  with  delight,  and,  as 
Mr.  Higglesey  and  Jotham  sat  down  to  dinner,  she 
actually  placed  one  of  her  Thanksgiving  pies  upon  the 
table.  It  was  hot,  and  though  not  rich,  yet  to  the 
hungry  boy  it  was  more  delicious  than  anything  he  had 


154  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

eaten  since  he  had  been  there ;  and  he  secretly  wished 
Mr.  Higglesey  could  make  five  dollars  every  day,  if  it 
would  so  expand  her  heart. 

The  killiug  and  dressing  of  the  turkeys  had  been  a 
long  and  tedious  task,  and,  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over, 
they  prepared  for  another  equally  great.  Seventy-five 
chickens  were  brought  into  the  kitchen,  not  all  at 
once,  but  rapidly  as  they  could  be  disposed  of.  Every 
moment  until  late  in  the  evening  they  worked, 
scarcely  giving  time  for  the  usual  duties  of  the  farm, 
and  at  four  the  next  morning  they  began  again.  Be- 
fore noon  Mr.  Higglesey  was  gone  with  another  load, 
and  his  wife  was  quite  good-natured,  as  she  usually 
was  when  money  was  coming  in. 

At  last  Thanksgiving  dawned  slowly  npon  the  ex- 
pectant families.  Tardily  the  portals  of  dawn  opened ; 
for  clouds  cold  and  gray  overspread  the  heavens,  and 
the  gates  of  the  east  did  not  unfold  to  admit  the  rosy 
streaks  of  early  light.  The  chariot  of  tho  sun  mount- 
ed the  sky  behind  a  draperied  curtain,  and  day  there- 
fore came  in  heavily  and  dull.  Jotham  missed  the 
four  o'clock  rap,  but  he  noted  its  absence  with  glad- 
ness. It  was  a  luxury  to  lie  quietly  and  rest.  He 
did  not  sleep,  but  closed  his  eyes  in  a  half  doze,  and 
busy  thoughts  occupied  him. 


THE   CROOK  STItAIGHTENED.  155 

Home  and  its  familiar  scenes  came  to  him.  He 
remembered  liow  often  he  and  Annette  had  planned 
for  Thanksgiving;  how  they  had  hoped  that  grand- 
father and  grandmother  would  come  to  them  this 
year;  and  he  wondered  whether  they  would  come. 
Would  they  all  be  there  together?  He  could  almost 
see  his  grandfather,  so  jolly  and  kind,  and  grand- 
mother, so  loving  and  gentle.  What  would  they  think 
of  him,  the  truant?  He  would  be  ashamed  ever  to 
see  them  again.  In  the  midst  of  this  reverie  gray 
dawn  forced  her  way  slowly  through  the  window, 
and  the  summons  came  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
The  boy  jumped  from  the  bed,  and  there  was  no 
more  time  for  thought. 

"Fly  round!"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  as  Jotham  en- 
tered the  kitchen.  "  We've  laid  abed  just  a  leetle  too 
late.  We'll  have  to  work  fast.  Take  the  pails  out 
with  you.    We'll  do  the  milking  up  in  a  hurry." 

The  routine  of  the  morning  work  had  become  fa- 
miliar to  the  incipient  farmer,  and  he  went  through 
it  with  a  rapidity  that  surprised  Mr.  Higglesey. 

"  You'll  make  a  workman  yet,"  he  said,  as  he  came 
around  where  Jotham  was  pulling  down  hay  with 
rapid  strokes.    "  Your  father'U  be  proud  of  you." 

Something    like  a  shiver   ran   through  the   boy's 


156  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

frame  at  this  remark,  and  he  thought,  if  Mr.  Hig- 
glesey  ouly  knew  the  circumstances,  how  differently 
he  would  think!  But  he  said  nothing.  He  dared 
not  tell  that  he  had  run  away  from  a  good  home, 
lest  the  old  farmer  should  send  him  back  again,  and 
he  could  not  go  back.  He  could  not  meet  the  cen- 
sures that  would  fall  upon  him  at  home,  nor  the  con- 
tempt of  his  acquaintances,  who  he  knew  would 
despise  him. 

"  "We'll  go  to  church  to-day,"  continued  Mr.  Hig- 
glesey.  "  The  woman,  she  never  goes  Thanksgiving 
day,  'cause  there's  so  many  flxin's  to  do.  So  fly 
round,  and  you  may  drive  Tom.  Should  you  like 
to  drive?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  should,"  answered  Jotham,  his  eyes 
brightening.  It  was  the  first  real  pleasure  that  had 
come  to  him  since  he  left  his  home. 

How  he  rubbed  Tom  that  morning!  Every  hair 
on  his  body  was  smoothed  into  place,  and  the  best 
harness  was  made  ready  to  put  upon  him.  Then  he 
went  in  and  saw  that  it  was  Thanksgiving  indeed. 
Fried  chicken  was  smoking  upon  the  table,  with  toast 
and  pies.  Besides,  there  was  a  white  damask  cloth 
whose  iron  folds  glistened  just  as  his  mother's  used 
to  glisten  at  home.    Tears  almost  came  into  his  eyes, 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  157 

—  tears  of  regret  for  the  home  now  lost,  and  of  joy 
at  the  sight  of  so  nice  a  breakfast  here.  But  if  the 
table  was  changed,  Mrs.  Higglesey  was  not.  She  had 
become  disturbed  by  her  unusual  preparations  for 
breakfast,  and  was  very  irritable.  If  she  gave  thanks 
by  preparing  nice  food,  she  certainly  had  not  prepared 
her  heart  for  an  acceptable  offering. 

"  I've  been  waiting  this  half  hour,"  was  her  salu- 
tation when  they  entered  the  room.  "Everything 
is  stone  cold.    Didn't  you  hear  me  call  you?" 

"  Wall,  we  couldn't  come  any  sooner,"  replied  Mr. 
Higglbsey,  going  to  the  tea-kettle  with  a  wash-basin 
in  his  hands. 

"  That's  a  likely  story,"  replied  the  woman.  "  Two 
of  you  couldn't  get  through  out  there,  and  I  here  all 
alone  have  done  all  this.  What  would  you  do  if  you 
was  in  my  place  ?  I  reckon  you'd  have  to  step  quick. 
But  men  never  do  know  how  much  a  woman  does. 
I  don't  know  where  you'd  be,  Enoch  Higglesey,  if 
'twas  n't  for  me." 

"There's  plenty, of  others,"  replied  Mr.  Higglesey, 
as  he  and  Jotham  wiped  their  hands  upon  the  same 
towel. 

Mrs.  Higglesey's  old  eyes  snapped,  but  she  did 
not  reply.     Notwithstanding  her  scolding,  she  had 


158  THE   CROOK  STBAIOHTENED. 

been  busily  engaged  in  placing  the  chairs  and  getting 
her  coflfee,  which  was  real  coflfee  this  morning,  in- 
stead of  barley,  as  usual. 

The  breakfast  seemed  delicious  to  Jotham,  and, 
contrary  to  Mrs.  Higglesey's  custom,  she  pressed  him 
to  eat.  She  did  not  watch  his  plate  lest  he  should 
get  upon  it  one  mouthful  too  much;  but  she  actu- 
ally loaded  it  with  good  things. 

♦*  We're  going  to  meetin',"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  as 
they  rose  from  the  table.  "I  s'pose  you  can  git 
along  alone,  Betsey." 

"  I  s'pose  I  generally  have  to,"  she  answered, 
roughly.  "As  I  said  before,  I  don't  know  what  you'd 
do  without  me  to  take  care  of  things  here." 

"  And,  as  I  said  before,  there  are  plenty  of  others," 
replied  the  man,  curtly. 

"You  needn't  tell  me  that  again,  Enoch  Higglesey. 
There's  precious  few  that  do  as  I  do ; "  and  with  a 
broad  sweep  she  passed  around  the  table  to  gather 
up  the  dishes,  in  doing  which  a  cup  fell  from  her 
hand  to  the  floor. 

"As  ill  luck  would  have  it,"  she  muttered,  looking 
down  at  the  fragments.  "  There's  so  much  gone 
now," 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  159 

"  It's  your  own  fault,"  replied  Mr.  Higglesey.  "  You 
was  too  cross  to  keep  straight." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I  shall  be  crosser  before  I'm  bet- 
ter," she  answered. 

Jotham  hoped  in  his  heart  that  he  should  be  out  of 
the  way  if  she  grew  any  more  irritated,  and  he 
hastily  went  out. 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  "hurry  up.  We've  no 
time  to  lose.  We  must  git  in  so  as  to  put  on  our 
tother  clothes." 

Jotham's  heavy  boots  clumped  about  with  hasty 
steps,  for  he  was  anxious  to  show  Mr.  Higglesey  how 
well  he  could  drive  Tom,  and  besides,  he  was  sure 
it  would  be  a  luxury  to  put  on  his  own  clothes  once 
more.  Never  was  work  accomplished  sooner,  and 
before  it  was  time  to  go,  the  ardent  boy  was  dressed 
and  waiting.  Then  Tom  came  out,  holding  up  his 
head,  and  dancing  in  high  glee. 

"You're  the  fellow  for  me,"  said  Jotham,  rubbing 
his  glossy  side.  "  We'll  have  a  gay  old  time  to-day, 
that  we  will." 

The  boy  was  in  high  spirits.  His  own  clothes  had 
partially  restored  him  to  himself,  and  a  horse  always 
excited  his  imagination,  carrying  him  away  on  vision- 


160  TBE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

ary  wings.  He  drove  skilfully,  and  Mr.  Higglesey 
was  quite  delighted. 

"You're  a  smarter  boy  than  I  thought,"  he  said. 
"I  guess  I  must  keep  you." 

Several  men  were  before  the  church-door  when 
Jotham  came  up  with  a  manly  step.  He  had  become 
so  elated  by  driving  and  curbing  Tom  that  he  had 
almost  forgotten  the  cloud  that  rested  over  him,  and 
went  into  church  with  his  natural  gait.  His  head 
was  erect,  his  brown  hair  thrown  carelessly  back  from 
his  white  forehead,  his  cheeks  were  flushed  with 
animation,  and  many  inquiring  eyes  were  turned 
toward  him. 

He  had  noticed  Dan  Trencher  on  the  steps  as  he 
passed,  and  tipped  his  hat.    Dan  stared  in  surprise. 

"  What  kind  of  a  boy  can  this  be?  "  he  asked  him- 
self. "My!  Jimminyl  What  a  bow  that  was!  And 
wliat  a  step  he  has !  I  should  think  he  was  a  gentle- 
man. How  can  he  wear  those  old  clothes,  and  look 
so  like  a  clown?" 

Dan  puzzled  his  head  during  church-service  over 
this  strange  acquaintance;  and  many  honest  farmers' 
boys  and  girls  wondered  what  handsome  boy  Mr. 
Higglesey  had  in  his  pew.  Jotham  was  quite  happy ; 
auJ    yet   he  was    not    happy,,  for  all   the  time    liis 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  161 

thoughts  were  reverting  to  his  own  church  at  home. 
When  he  saw  the  smiling  faces  of  the  young  girls,  he 
was  reminded  of  Annette,  and  guilty  shame  oppressed 
him.  He  wished  himself  back  by  her  side,  wished  he 
could  look  in  her  clear  eyes,  and  hear  her  say,  "  I 
forgive  you." 

When  he  reached  home  again,  dinner  was  waiting. 
Mrs.  Higglesey  had  done  her  best,  and  the  food  was 
so  different  from  their  ordinary  coarse  fare,  that  the 
boy  secretly  wished  Thanksgiving  might  last  through 
the  year.  But  when  dinner  was  over,  work  came 
back. 

"Take  off  your  nice  clothes,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey. 
"  It  just  spoils  good  clothes  to  wear  them  at  home." 

Jotham  obeyed  reluctantly.  He  dreaded  going 
back  to  that  coarse  suit.  He  seemed  not  like  him- 
self in  such  apparel;  but  there  was  no  alternative. 
Mr.  Higglesey  had  a  stern  manner  not  easily  resisted. 
The  day  ended  with  work,  but  something  of  the  brief 
happiness  lingered  within  him.  He  remembered  the 
church-service,  and  that  one  hour  of  respite  from  dull 
toil  was  like  a  ray  of  sunshine  amidst  clouds. 
11 


162  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


CHOPPING  AND  ITS  EFFECTS 


IN  Mr.  Higglesey's  family,  Thanksgiving  carried 
none  of  its  relaxation  into  the  following  days. 
Jotham  hoped  for  a  little  reprieve,  but  he 
found  only  renewed  rigor.  New  kinds  of  work 
seemed  to  be  invented.  Tools  were  to  be  repaired 
and  laid  away  for  the  sammer;  stones  were  to  be 
piled  up  in  the  fields  before  the  coming  of  snow.  A 
few  fields  were  ploughed,  and  Jotham  walked  beside 
the  oxen  in  his  frock  and  heavy  boots,  back  and  forth 
over  the  long  furrows,  tiU  he  was  weary  and  ready  to 
faint. 

"I  wish  snow  would  come,"  he  said  to  Dan,  in  one 
of  their  private  talks. 

"  So  do  I,"  replied  Dan.  "  I  want  to  skate  and  go 
sleigh-riding." 

"  And  I  want  to  rest,"  replied  Jotham.  "  If  snow 
would  co'.no  'twoiiUl  stop  all  this  out-door  work  " 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  163 

"  Not  much  will  you  rest  though,"  answered  Dau. 
♦'  I  tell  you,  I  never  knew  Higglesey  let  a  fellow  rest." 

"But  what  can  we  do  after  snow  comes?  The 
bam  doesn't  take  all  day." 

"  "Well,  I'll  tell  you.  Youll  have  to  cut  wood  down 
over  the  hill  there ;  real  tough  trees  they  are ;  scrub 
oak  and  chestnut.  Your  arms  wiU  ache,  or  my  name's 
not  Dan  Trencher." 

"  Cut  trees !  "  repeated  Jotham.  "  I  don't  believe  I 
can." 

"  You'll  have  to  try  as  quick  as  the  snow  comes,  I 
can  tell  you,"  returned  Dan. 

Jotham  longed  no  more  for  the  snow.  He  was  sure 
that  cutting  trees  would  be  harder  than  pumping 
water,  or  chopping  pumpkins,  or  even  milking,  which 
was  his  terror.  He  remembered  how,  like  Dan,  he 
had  delighted  in  snow.  He  could  think  of  the  snow- 
men he  had  made,  of  the  snowballs,  of  the  coasting, 
and  skating ;  but  now  it  was  only  work,  work.  When 
he  went  out  one  morning  and  found  the  earth  draped 
in  her  mantle  of  white,  instead  of  running  about  to 
make  tracks,  he  walked  solemnly  along,  thinking  only 
of  the  trees  to  be  cut,  and  of  his  own  weariness. 
Before  breakfast  was  over,  he  found  the  truth  of 
Dan's  predicliou. 


164  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"Betsey,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  "put  some  victuals 
into  a  tin  pail.  "We  are  going  down  to  the  woods, 
and  we'll  want  a  little  dinner.  You  can  give  the  cows 
their  noon  fodderiu." 

"  I  reckon  I  can,"  she  answered ;  ' '  I've  done  it  this 
many  a  year." 

•'  Got  some  doughnuts  ?  "  asked  the  man, 

"No,  I  haint.  You're  always  after  doughnuts,  and 
it  costs  as  much  to  make  'em  as  it  costs  to  make  cake. 
I  can't  afford  it." 

"  Wall,  what  can  we  carry?  " 

"  Why,  there's  some  cold  baked  beans." 

"Wall,  what  else?" 

"  There's  bread  and  cheese." 

"  Wall,  haint  you  got  a  mince  pie?  " 

"Oh,  I  can't  spare  one  of  them.  I  put  'em  away 
after  Thanksgiving,  and  they've  got  to  last  all  winter. 
There's  your  sister  Sally,  she'll  be  here  some  day; 
and  cousin  John's  folks,  and,  like  as  not,  the  minis- 
ter ;  he  always  does  come  every  winter,  and  'twon't 
do  to  be  out  of  pies." 

"  Wall,  wall,"  said  the  man,  "  give  us  something. 
Anything'U  do.  Come,  Jotham,  let's  go  to  the  barn 
and  finish  up." 

If  Jotham  hud  not  been  tired  with  unceasing  work, 


THE   CItOOK  STItAIGHTENED.  165 

the  "Woods  would  have  seemed  to  him  romantic  that 
day.  The  light  snow  rested  on  the  boughs,  festoon- 
ing them  with  fantastic  wreaths ;  the  birds,  who  had 
sheltered  themselves  beneath  the  branches,  started  at 
the  sound  of  human  footsteps,  and  tiny  tracks  be- 
trayed the  course  of  some  small  animal  who  had 
crossed  the  snow  in  pursuit  of  his  morning  meal. 
True  it  was  cold,  but,  notwithstanding,  there  was  a 
"Wild-wood  beauty  charming  to  the  unaccustomed  boy. 

But  Mr.  Higglesey  saw  no  rural  beauties.  He  ex- 
amined the  trees  with  a  view  to  their  utility,  remarked 
that  this  one  was  old  and  might  as  well  be  cut  down ; 
that  one  was  in  the  way  of  others  and  hindered  their 
growth;  there  was  a  pile  of  brush  that  had  lain  all 
summer,  and  here  was  some  undergrowth  must  be 
cleared  out.  All  this  time  Jotham  was  looking  up 
at  the  interlacing  branches  of  the  tall  oaks,  or  com- 
paring together  the  various  kinds  of  small  trees.  In 
one  place  a  small  pine  had  sprung  up;  in  another,  a 
spruce ;  but,  chiefly,  he  saw  they  were  oaks  and  chest- 
nuts, those  lovers  of  our  northern  soil. 

Into  one  of  these,  tough  and  gnarly,  Mr.  Higglesey 
struck  his  axe,  commanding  Jotham  to  do  the  same. 
They  stood  on  opposite  sides  of  the  tree,  and  tried  to 
strike  their  blows  in  even  strokes;  but  Jotham  was 


•  1G6  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

irregular.  His  arms  were  not  muscular  and  strong. 
He  could  not  send  forward  his  axe  with  a  blow  that 
would  sink  into  the  living  tree. 

"Sink  your  axe  deeper,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey;  and 
Jotham  tried,  but  in  vain.  He  had  not  sufficient 
strength. 

"  Wall,  wall,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Higglesey,  trying  to 
be  patient,  "  you'll  learn  after  a  while.  Can't  expect 
a  green  hand  to  know  everything  at  first.  Come, 
we'll  change  sides." 

Jotham  soon  grew  very  tired.  His  limbs  ached, 
his  heart  beat  fast,  the  blood  rushed  to  his  head, 
his  arms  seemed  scarcely  able  to  wield  the  axe ;  but 
there  was  no  pause.  No  sooner  had  the  gi-eat  tree 
fallen  staggeringly  to  the  ground,  than  Mr.  Higgle- 
sey ordered  an  attack  upon  its  limbs.  Beautiful 
branches,  upon  which  nature  had  lavished  her  most 
artistic  fancies,  were  lopped  by  the  shining  steel,  and 
their  tender  branchlets  were  strewed  upon  the 
ground,  to  mingle  once  more  with  the  elements 
from  which  they  were  made. 

Jotham  proved  more  efficient  in  this  part  of  the 
labor.  He  could  sever  the  small  limbs,  and  soon 
quite  a  pile  lay  on  the  snow  before  him. 

"  That's    right,"  said    Mr.  Higglesey,  glancing  at 


TRE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  167 

him.  "You'll  make  a  chopper.  Of  course  you'll  get 
tired.  There's  no  use  in  minding  that.  It's  the 
natural  effect.    You'll  toughen." 

"It  appears  to  me  I'll  die  in  toughening,"  said 
Jotham,  growing  desperate  and  venturing  to  speak. 

"  Pshaw !  No,  you  won't.  All  boys  think  so.  Keep 
at  it.    You'll  come  out  right  yet." 

When  noon  came  they  sat  down  on  a  log  and  ate 
their  cold  baked  beans,  with  the  brown  bread  and 
cheese.  Chopping  made  good  appetites,  and  the 
coarse  fare  disappeared  with  rapidity.  Then  the 
axes  were  resumed  and  the  work  proceeded.  Jotham 
thought  of  the  fairy  stories  he  had  read,  and  he 
wished  some  dear  little  "brownie"  would  come 
with  a  golden  axe  that  would  cut  all  the  trees  at 
once.  Several  times  a  slight  rustling  in  the  branches 
caused  him  to  look  earnestly,  almost  hoping  some 
bright  little  face  would  be  seen,  bringing  magical 
aid.  But  then,  suddenly  recollecting  that  fairies 
only  helped  good  boys  and  girls,  he  resumed  his 
work  in  despair,  feeling  that  no  fairy  would  ever  come 
to  him,  except  to  reprove. 

That  night  he  had  a  new  dish  for  supper.  He  had 
often  read  of  it  as  very  common  in  olden  times,  but 
now   he  found  that   bean-porridge  was  Mr,  Higgle- 


168  THE   CROOK  STItAIGHTENED. 

sey's  usual  sapper  on  his  return  from  tlie  woods. 
As  Jotham  was  eating  it,  he  could  not  help  repeating 
to  himself,  — 

"Bean-i>orridge  hot,  bean-porridge  cold, 
Bean-porridge  best  when  it's  nine  days  old." 

"Well,"  said  he  to  himself,  "it  is  hot,  and  it 
tastes  good.  I'll  eat  it  and  go  to  bed.  I  was  never 
so  tired  in  my  life." 

He  did  not  wait  to  see  Mr.  Higglesey  hold  his 
pipe  in  the  oven-mouth,  but  went  to  his  bed  the 
moment  the  work  was  finished.  He  had  never  been 
allowed  a  light  since  the  first  night  he  was  there, 
so  there  was  no  inducement  to  sit  in  his  chamber. 
He  hastened  into  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  How  could 
he  sleep  when  every  limb  was  in  pain?  Over  and 
over  he  turned,  but  still  the  pain  racked  him,  till  he 
groaned  from  actual  misery. 

Then  he  thought  of  his  mother.  He  remembered 
how  tenderly  she  had  bathed  his  head  when  some 
slight  cold  had  caused  a  trifling  illness  at  home. 
He  thought  of  Annette's  careful  watching,  and  of 
his  grandmother's  judicious  care.  But  now  no  one 
asked,  "  Are  you  tired  ?  Are  you  ill  ? "  No  voice 
of  love  cheered  him  amid  his  suflferings.  When  at 
last   he   fell   asleep,    he   scarcely   rested.     Fevered 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  169 

throbs  rushed  through  his  system  and  his  braia 
seemed  burning. 

At  four  o'clock  came  that  thundering  rap. 

"Oh,  dear!"  groaned  the  boy,  turning  in  agony. 
"Why  can't  that  old  man  keep  still  sometimes?" 
What  is  he  made  of?  Can  he  work  forever  and 
ever?" 

With  temples  burning,  eyes  aching,  and  stiffened 
limbs,  he  arose.  When  he  descended  the  stairs,  he 
stumbled,  and  came  down  into  the  kitchen  with  the 
gait  of  one  stiff  with  rheumatism. 

"Hurry  up!"  said  Mr.  Iligglesey.  "Hurry  up! 
We  must  git  into  the  woods  early  this  morning. 
Pump  up  the  water  the  first  thing,  then  do  the 
milking.    I'll  be  feeding  the  cattle." 

As  the  work  went  on,  the  boy's  weariness  grad- 
ually decreased.  His  energies  roused  and  the  stiff- 
ness of  his  limbs  relaxed,  for  the  morning's  pump- 
ing always  threw  the  perspiration  upon  his  brow; 
nor  was  he  much  relieved  by  the  milking. 

Three  days  he  followed  this  course :  In  the 
woods  all  day,  and  hastening  the  morning  and 
evening  duties  at  home.  The  third  night  found, 
him  in  despair.  He  lay  on  his  bed  and  wept  in 
misery,  longing   for  a  friend,  for  one  loving  heart 


170  THE   CROOK  8TRAIGBTENED. 

to  bestow  its  sympathy,  for  just  one  to  whom  he 
could  look  for  protection  and  help. 

"I  will  go  home,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Yes,  I 
will  go  home.  Sorely  they  will  take  me  back 
again.  But  oh,  I  can't  go  home  to-night  1  Oh, 
how  my  head  aches!  Is  there  no  one  to  whom  I 
can  look  ?  " 

Some  little  remembrance  came  to  him,  some 
thought  of  the  past,  and  a  voice  from  the  echoes 
of  his  heart  whispered  a  verse  he  once  learned  to 
repeat  in  Sabbath  school:  "Call  upon  the  Lord 
while  he  is  near."  But  he  quickly  thrust  the 
thought  one    side,   murmuring, — 

"  No,  no,  it  is  not  for  me  to  call  upon  God.  I 
am  too  wicked.  He  would  not  hear  me.  No,  no,  I 
cannot  pray.  I  broke  my  promise  to  my  grand- 
mother. I  told  her  I  would  try  to  pray ;  but  I  broke 
my  promise.  Oh,  dear!  I  am  so  tired  I  cannot  lie 
still.  And  I  am  so  cold!  But  my  head  is  on  fire! 
And  it  aches  so!  Oh,  dear!  What  shall  I  do?  If 
the  Lord  would  hear  me  I  would  pray ;  for  what  else 
can  I  do?" 

The  boy  was  really  too  ill  to  sleep  that  night. 
Standing  on  the  cold  snow  in  the  woods,  and  chop- 
ping  vigorously    all  day,  had   produced  a  fever  in 


THE    CROOK  STRAianTENED.  171 

his  delicately  reared  system.  All  night  he  tossed 
and  thought.  It  seemed  to  him  that  one  touch  of 
his  mother's  hand  upon  his  brow  would  soothe 
him  to  sleep,  and  many  times  he  said,  "  I  will  go 
home.    Yes,  I  will  go  home." 

Promptly  as  the  clock  struck  four,  Mr.  Higglesey 
was  upon  his  feet,  and  his  first  movement  was  to 
thump  ponderously  on  the  chamber-door.  Jotham 
raised  his  head,  but  such  a  terrible  pain  came  in  it, 
such  a  snapping,  that  he  thought  the  very  bones 
were  cracking,  and  he  dropped  again  upon  the  pil- 
low. Then  a  shiver  crawled  through  his  bones, 
and  a  deathly  sickness  pervaded  his  central  being. 

"  Get  up,  here,"  called  Mr.  Higglesey,  directly, 
thrusting  his  head  half  way  up  the  stairs.  *'  Get 
up,  I  say." 

Again  Jotham  raised  his  head,  but  it  fell  back  as 
though  struck  by  unseen  hands,  and  he  thought 
some  terrible  crash  was  the  result.  He  answered  with 
a  groan. 

"Why  don't  you  wake  up?"  called  Mr.  Higgle- 
sey, ascending  another  stair. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  get  up ! "  answered  the  boy.  "  I 
can't.    My  head  is  bursting  right  off." 


172  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  Pshaw !  You'll  feel  better  after  a  minute.  Come 
down  and  stir  round  a  little." 

"I  can't,  Mr.  Higglesey;  I  can't  lift  my  head." 

"Oh,  fudge  1  Come  down.  Betsey'll  make  you  a 
cup  of  sage  tea." 

Once  more  he  raised  his  head,  but  it  fell  back,  and 
pressing  his  hands  tightly  upon  his  forehead,  he 
answered,  — 

"I  can't  come,  —  T  would  if  I  could.  I'm  dying. 
Oh,  dear!  my  head  is  worse  and  worse." 

Mrs.  Higglesey  heard  this  colloquy,  and  it  struck 
her  woman's  heart.  Much  as  the  beautiful  had  been 
driven  from  her  soul  by  the  love  of  money,  there  was 
yet  left  a  little  tenderness.  The  tones  of  an  invalid 
always  called  her  nature  into  sympathy  with  the  suf- 
ferer. She  was  not  in  favor  of  doctors,  for  they  were 
expensive ;  but  her  garret  was  full  of  roots  and  herbs, 
and  she  could  steam,  poultice,  and  blister  with  as 
much  sagacity  as  the  most  practised  nurse.  Indeed, 
she  was  very  proud  of  her  skill  in  the  healing  art,  and 
never  lost  an  opportunity  of  displaying  it.  She  called 
to  Mr.  Higglesey  now,  — 

"  Let  the  boy  alone.  It's  likely  he  has  taken  cold. 
I'll  fetch  him  out  of  it  by  and  by." 

The  farmer  descended   the   stairs,  and  went   out 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  173 

alone.  But  his  work  proceeded  slowly.  He  missed 
the  quick  steps  and  ready  assistance  of  his  young 
woi'kman,  and  he  began  to  wonder  how  he  ever  ac- 
complished so  many  things  alone.  When  he  came 
in  to  breakfast,  his  first  question  was  for  Jotham. 

<'  What !  aint  he  up  yet?  " 

"No,  he  aint,"  answered  the  woman;  "and  more'n 
that,  he  won't  be  to-day.  He's  got  a  fever  upon  him ; 
I  can  tell." 

"Pshaw!"  I'esponded  the  man.  "It's  only  a  boy's 
fever,  I  reckon.  He  don't  want  to  work,  that's  all. 
I  saw  yesterday  that  he  lagged  a  little.  Get  him 
dQVvn  to  breakfast,  and  he'll  do  well  enough." 

"Now  I  tell  you,  Enoch  Higglesey,  I've  seen  sick 
people  before  now.  There's  Mrs.  Trencher,  much  as 
she  brags,  always  sends  for  me  when  her  boys  are 
sick;  and  Aunt  Mary  Minot  sent  clear  down  from 
the  village  after  me,  'cause  she  wouldn't  have  a 
doctor." 

"Wall,  what  of  it?" 

"What  of  it,  Enoch  Higglesey?  Why,  it  shows 
that  I  know,  and  I  tell  you  the  boy  is  feverish ;  and 
as  long  as  I  am  Betsey  Higglesey,  whatever  else 
people  say  of  me,  they  shall  never  say  I  neglected 
the  sick.     I  shall  give  liiin  a  sweat." 


174  THE   CROOK  STRAJGHTEKED. 

Mr.  Higglesey  saw  that  there  would  be  no  change 
in  her  decision,  and  he  quietly  submitted,  remark- 
ing,— 

"Women  always  wUl  have  their  own  way." 

The  morning  was  cloudy,  and  daylight  revealed  a 
few  flakes  of  snow,  foretelling  a  storm.  This  helped 
to  pacify  the  farmer's  feelings,  for  he  saw  that,  if 
Jotham  was  weU,  the  weather  would  be  unsuitable 
for  chopping.  His  fertile  invention  immediately  sug- 
gested another  way  of  using  the  day  profitably. 

"I'll  jest  carry  up  a  load  of  potatoes  to  Mars- 
ton,"  he  mused.  "  Maybe  the  price'U  fall  by  and  by, 
and  the  sooner  I  carry  them  the  better.  But  I  de- 
clare, I  wish  the  boy  was  well  enough  to  help  load  'era. 
I'm  tired  now.  That  pumping  e'enamost  broke  my 
arms.  I  haint  pumped  a  mite  before  since  the  boy 
has  been  here." 

Mrs.  Higglesey  paid  little  heed  to  her  husband  that 
morning.  She  was  in  her  desired  element,  and  the 
stove  was  soon  covered  with  hot  bricks  and  bowls  of 
herb  tea.  Mustard  poultices  were  prepared  for  the 
feet,  the  bricks  were  steamed  with  vinegar,  and  every 
preparation  was  made  for  a  thorough  sweating  of  the 
invalid.  Her  manners  lost  their  roughness.  Her 
house-work  even  became  secondary.     When  she  came 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  175 

into  the  low  chamber,  she  spoke  tenderly  as  a  mother 
to  her  son.  Jotham  looked  up  at  her  in  surprise. 
Her  kind  words  fell  upon  his  ear  with  a  soothing 
sound. 

"Does  your  head  ache  just  as  much  as  it  did, 
Jotham  ?  "    she  asked,  bending  over  him. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am !  it  aches  more  and  more." 

"Poor  boy!  "she  responded,  touching  his  forehead 
with  her  hand. 

Her  palm  was  broad  and  rough  with  much  labor, 
but  she  touched  the  brow  so  lightly  that  it  gave  the 
sufferer  an  exquisite  pleasure.  It  seemed  like  his 
mother's  hand. 

"  Poor  boy !  "  she  repeated.  "  How  hot  your  head 
is !    I'll  bathe  it  with  cold  water." 

But  the  cold  water  produced  little  effect.  The 
fevered  head  absorbed  it  and  ached  still. 

"I  must  draw  the  heat  downward,"  said  the  wo- 
man.   "I  must  give  you  a  powerfhl  sweat." 

Then  came  the  steamed  bricks  and  the  hot  drinks. 
AU  day  her  care  of  him  was  unremitting ;  but  the  fe- 
ver was  obstinate.  The  unceasing  toil  of  the  past 
weeks,  and  the  secret  anxiety  which  had  preyed  upon 
him,  had  exhausted  his  system  of  its  vital  energies, 
auti   it  was  very  difficult  for  hiiu  to   rally.     But    in 


176  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

proportion  as  the  fever  defied  the  nurse,  her  energies 
roused  to  meet  it,  and  she  racked  Ler  brain  for  rem- 
edies. Mr.  Higglesey  sold  his  potatoes,  and  returned 
with  the  money  in  his  purse. 

"  So  the  boy  don't  get  well?"  he  asked,  as  he  came 
in  and  saw  the  array  of  bowls  and  cups  on  the  stove 
and  table. 

"  Speak  lower,  Enoch,  do.  Your  voice  goes  right 
upstairs,  and  it'll  rack  his  head  worse'n  'tis  now." 

"  Wall,  wall,"  returned  the  man,  softly,  "  cure  him 
if  you  can.  I  don't  want  the  neighbors  to  say  I've 
killed  another  boy." 

He  went  out  with  careful  steps,  remembering  many 
summei^  ago,  in  the  briskness  of  the  haying  season, 
when  a  fair-haired  youth  sickened  and  died  at  his 
house,  and  his  neighbors  accused  him  of  overwork- 
ing the  child. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  went  to  the 
barn,  "  I'll  not  say  a  word  to  Betsey.  Let  her  take 
her  own  way." 

All  night  Mrs.  Higglesey  continued  with  her  patient. 
She  watched  for  the  hours  of  fever,  and  she  watched 
for  the  chills,  combating  each  as  it  came,  determined 
not  to  relax  her  efforts  till  sleep  should  quiet  the  dis- 
tracted boy.    But  the  clock  struck  four  ere  slumber 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  Ill 

closed  his  lids,  aod  this  was  the  hour  of  her  husband's 
rising.  She  heard  his  steps  in  the  kitchen,  and  went 
down. 

"Now,  Enoch  Higglesey,  don't  you  make  a  breath 
of  noise.  The  boy's  asleep,  and  I'm  going  to  sleep  a 
little  myself.  It's  no  matter  about  breakfast.  I'll  pat 
the  coffee-pot  on  the  stove,  and  you  can  git  youreelf 
something.     This  house  must  be  still." 

Mr.  Higglesey  went  out,  and  the  wearied  nurse, 
going  into  her  room,  dropped  upon  the  bed,  leaving 
the  doors  open  between  herself  and  patient,  that  she 
might  hear  the  first  sound. 

"  I  guess  I'll  break  up  the  fever,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  As  Enoch  says,  'twould  be  awful  to  have  him  die." 

As  daylight  came  softly  stealing,  the  invalid  awoke 
and  groaned.  His  nurse  rushed  upstairs;  yet  though 
she  went  so  quickly,  she  paused  at  the  door,  and, 
going  to  the  bed  quietly,  stooped  and  looked  in  her 
patient's  face. 

"How  do  you  feel,  my  boy?" 

"Oh,  dear!    I  want  to  go  home." 

"Do  you?  But  you  can't,  you  know.  You're  too 
sick.  But  if  you  don't  get  better,  we'll  send  for  your 
mother.  What  street  does  she  live  on  in  the  city  ? " 
12 


178  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

*'  Oh,  don't  send  for  my  mother ! "  he  exclaimed, 
staring.    "Don't  send  for  her  here." 

"  Well,  well,"  answered  the  woman,  startled  at  his 
earnestness,  and  wondering  what  special  objection 
he  could  have  to  her  plan.  "Don't  worry!  You'll 
go  home,  sometime." 

Jotham  lay  quietly.  The  pain  in  his  head  was  a 
little  less  severe,  but  still  it  ached,  and  he  was  weak. 
His  broad-faced  nurse  smoothed  his  pillow,  wiped 
his  brow,  his  cheeks,  and  his  lips,  and  stooped  oxav 
him  so  tenderly,  that  he  thought  it  could  not  be 
Mrs.  Higglesey. 

*'  How  good  you  are ! "  he  said,  in  a  faint  voice, 
as  she  bathed  his  limp  hand. 

The  words  went  to  her  heart,  and  a  ftiint  streak 
of  love  glimmered  there.  She  looked  in  the  bright 
eyes,  now  so  weary,  stroked  back  the  chestnut  hair, 
and  remembered  long  years  ago  when  a  little  child 
lay  in  her  arms  and  breathed  away  its  infant  life. 
It  was  a  little  boy,  and  she  wondered  whether,  if  it 
had  lived,  it  would  have  been  as  handsome  and  as 
bright  as  Jotham.  Then  a  tear  stole  from  her  eye 
and  the  sick  boy  noticed  it. 

"Are  you  veiy  tired?"  he  asked. 

"No,  Jotham,  not  very.    Why  do  you  ask?" 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  179 

"You  have  been  up  all  night  with  me,"  he  added, 
"  and  you  weep." 

She  put  up   her  hand  and  brushed  away  the  tear. 

"  There,  Jotham,  never  mind.  I  had  a  little  boy, 
once.    That's  all." 

"And  did  he  die?"  asked  Jotham,  looking  anx- 
iously in  her  face. 

"Yes,  he  died.  If  he  had  lived,  maybe  he  would 
have  been  some  like  you." 

" Oh,  not  like  me !  "  he  answered.  "I  am  not 
good." 

She  smiled  a  little.  "That's  what  we  all  say,  my 
boy.  Good  people  are  never  willing  to  acknowledge 
their  goodness.  They  feel  so  kind  o'  humble  like, 
you  know.  That's  what  our  minister  says.  Should 
you  like  to  see  our  minister,  some  day?" 

"  Yes'm." 

"Well,  he'll  be  down  here  soon.  He  comes  once 
every  winter.  He'll  like  to  talk  with  you,  'cause 
you  talk  so  much  grammar,  and  know  so  much. 
You  shall  have  on  your  own  good  clothes,  when  he 
comes;  there  I  declare,  I'll  tell  Enoch  so!  I  wish 
you  was  my  own  boy,  I  do." 

She  went  downstairs  directly,  and  Jotham  closed 
Ms  aching  eyelids  and  pondered  upon  what  she  had 


180  THE   CROOK  STRAIOHTENED. 

said.  ■  It  seemed  to  him  that  she  was  another 
woman.  He  could  not  believe  her  mercenary,  hard 
disposition  could  be  so  softened.  But  when  she 
came  back  again,  still  kind,  bearing  in  her  hand  a 
soothing  drink,  he  looked  at  her  again,  and  he  saw 
it  was  really  Mrs.  Higglesey. 

"I  will  always  love  you,"  he  murmured,  as  she 
held  the  cup  to  his  lips. 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  answered,  gently. 

When  she  went  downstairs,  she  carried  her  soft- 
ened mood  with  her,  but  her  husband  gave  it  little 
attention.  He  had  seen  her  by  the  bed  of  sickness 
before,  and  he  knew  she  was  always  a  changed 
woman  at  such  times.  He  did  not  try  to  read  be- 
low the  surface,  nor  seek  to  find  the  gold  which 
must  be  somewhere  hidden  in  such  a  nature. 


TBE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  181 


CHAPTER  X. 

LIGHTS    AND    SHADOWS. 

[ay  after  day  Mrs.  Higglesey  nursed  and 
watched,  until  the  invalid  was  once  more 
able  to  come  downstairs.  Then  she  brought 
her  best  rocliing- chair  into  the  kitchen,  put  pillows 
into  it,  and  bolstered  up  her  patient  before  the 
warm  kitchen  fire.  She  even  produced  a  chicken, 
which  had  been  frozen  to  keep  for  company,  and 
from  this  she  made  a  nourishing  broth.  Sometimes 
she  talked,  at  others  she  went  silently  about  her 
work,  while  Jotham  leaned  back  his  head,  closed 
his  eyes,  and  thought. 

There  was  much  in  his  thoughts  to  give  him  pain, 
and  yet  he  was  not  wholly  unhappy,  for  he  had 
found  a  new  friend,  and  her  Ivindness  penetrated 
his  heart.  He  revolved  again  his  idea  of  going 
home,  but  now  there  was  mingled  a  reluctance  to 
leave  the  good  woman  who  had  so  befriended  him. 


182  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENEV. 

It  seemed  ungrateful  to  go  from  her  just  as  she  had 
raised  him  from  a  terrible  illness,  and  he  said  to  him- 
self, "No,  I'll  not  go  yet.  It  would  be  wrong. 
Besides,  I  have  no  money  to  go  with,  and  I  cannot 
walk  so  far  on  the  snow.    I  am  not  strong." 

Nourishing  food  and  care  soon  restored  him  again, 
and  he  was  once  more  able  to  go  out ;  but  Mrs.  Hig- 
glesey  would  not  allow  him  to  be  called  at  four 
o'clock,  nor  would  she  consent  that  he  should  chop 
again  in  the  woods. 

"Wall,  the  fact  is,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  "the  boy 
must  do  something.  I  can't  afford  to  board  and 
clothe  him  for  nothing." 

"  Let  him  draw  the  wood  to  the  door,  then," 
remonstrated  the  woman. 

Mr.  Higglesey  thought  a  moment.  "Wall,  wall,  I 
suppose  it  must  be  so;  but  it's  mighty  hard  on  me 
to  do  all  the  chopping,  myself." 

However,  he  submitted  to  the  decision  of  his  wife, 
and,  taking  Jotham  out,  instructed  him  in  the  art  of 
managing  the  oxen.  Then,  patiently,  every  day  Jo- 
tham drove  to  the  woods,  loaded  his  sled,  and 
brought  the  wood  to  the  door.  If  the  oxen  proved 
refractory,  refusing  to  turn  as  he  wanted  them,  Mrs. 
Higglesey  came  out  and   assisted    him.      She  could 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  183 

take  the  long  stick,  and,  wielding  it  over  tlie  heads 
of  the  oxen,  could  turn  and  direct  them  with  as 
much  skill  as  her  husband. 

Many,  many  times  were  the  boy's  feet  weary  with 
carrying  those  heavy  boots  across  the  snow,  keep- 
ing his  even  pace  beside  the  oxen.  His  clothes,  too 
though  warmj  seemed  uncomfortable.  He  did  wish 
Mrs.  Higglesey's  heart  would  so  far  expand  that  she 
would  give  him  a  new  suit,  but  he  soon  found  that 
such  wishes  were  vain.  She  would  not  have  given 
them  to  an  own  son.  She  would  have  thought  it  a 
sin  and  an  extravagance. 

"  Coarse  clothes  to  work  in,"  was  her  motto ;  and 
upon  this  principle  she  acted.  On  Sundays,  both 
she  and  Mr.  Higglesey  came  out  in  very  comely 
apparel,  but  the  moment  they  reached  home,  this 
was  laid  one  side,  and  the  working  clothes  were 
resumed.  Therefore,  though  she  had  continued  her 
kindness  to  Jotham  since  his  illness,  he  still  wore 
the  economical  suit.  Often  he  was  ashamed.  Some- 
times men  came  to  the  barn  on  business,  and  the 
boy's  cheeks  flushed  as  he  saw  their  eyes  examining 
curiously  his  garments.  He  wanted  to  creep  out 
of  siglit. 

He  had  come  up  to  the  house  one  day  with  a  load 


184  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

of  wood.  The  sun  was  shining  pleasantly,  and  the 
snow  was  melting  in  the  paths.  As  he  had  walked 
by  the  oxen,  he  had  been  obliged  to  step  into  the 
water,  which,  in  some  places,  was  not  very  clean, 
and  his  clothes  were  splashed  even  to  his  frock. 
Besides,  the  clear  rays  from  the  father  of  light  beat 
upon  his  fUr  cap  until  drops  of  perspiration  trickled 
from  his  forehead.  Just  as  he  reached  the  door- 
yard,  a  sleigh  came  from  the  opposite  direction 
and  turned  swiftly  into  the  yard.  One  glance  told 
Jotham  it  was  the  minister. 

There  was  a  lady  and  a  little  girl  in  the  sleigh,  and 
as  they  paused  before  the  door,  Jotham's  natural 
politeness  prompted  him  to  go  to  their  assistance, 
but  instantly  a  consciousness  of  his  unfitness  to  ap- 
pear before  them  held  him  back,  and  he  endeavored 
to  hide  behind  the  oxen  as  though  not  aware  of 
their  approach-  But  Mrs.  Higglesey  came  to  the 
door  with  her  broad  working  apron  and  her  sleeves 
rolled  to  the  elbow.  She  was  proud  of  her  con- 
dition. She  considered  it  an  honor  to  be  buried  in 
work;  nevertheless,  her  reverence  for  her  minister 
and  his  wife  compelled  her  to  make  some  apologies. 

"Never  mind.  Sister  Higglesey,"  said  the  minis- 
ter, smiling,  and  laying  his  coat  one  side.     "  We  ex- 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  185 

pected  to  find  you  at  work.  Don't  trouble  yourself 
on  our  account.    We  can  sit  right  here  with  you." 

But  Mrs.  Higglesey  would  not  permit  that.  Jotham 
was  called. 

"  Make  a  fire  in  the  parlor  just  as  quick  as  you 
can,"  she  said,  meeting  him  at  the  door,  and  whis- 
pering in  his  ear.  "  Then  put  up  the  minister's  horse 
and  the  oxen.  Then  go  change  your  clothes  and 
come   in." 

"  But  Mr.  Higglesey  expects  me  back  to  the  woods," 
he  answered. 

"Let  him  expect,  then.  I  can't  help  it.  The  fact 
is,  I  want  you  to  go  into  the  parlor.  You  can  talk 
grammar,  and  they  will  like  to  talk  with  you  while 
I  am  getting  supper.  I  tell  ^oii  it's  an  awful  job  to 
get  supper  for  such  folks." 

Jotham  very  gladly  obeyed  her  instructions.  He 
hastened  to  his  chamber  and  pulled  off  the  detested 
clothes,  and  when  he  came  into  the  parlor  with  his 
own  suit,  and  his  neatly-fltting  shoes,  in  which  he 
stepped  so  softly,  while  his  hair  thrown  back  revealed 
his  fair  forehead  and  bright  eyes,  he  seemed  like  a 
gem  in  that  house  of  labor.  The  minister  arose  to 
greet  him  as  Mrs.  Higglesey  introduced  him  in  her 
quaint  way. 


186  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

*'  Mr.  Tracy,"  she  said,  "  this  is  our  work-boy, 
Jotham  Wilson.  And  this  is  Mrs.  Tracy,  and  this 
is  their  daughter  Amelia." 

They  all  arose,  almost  in  surprise.  It  was  not 
often  they  met  one  of  so  gentlemanly  bearing  in 
their  visits  at  these  rural  homes,  and  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey  was  very  proud.  She  saw  at  a  glance  the  re- 
spect his  manners  had  inspired,  and  she  mused 
inwardly,  "  See  what  it  is  to  be  a  gentleman ! 
Everybody  knows  it  as  quick  as  they  see  one.  Lai 
I  don't  see  how  it's  done.  I  couldn't  be  a  lady  if  I 
should  try." 

She  sat  awhile  with  her  visitors,  and  then  she 
went  out  to  commence  the  great  preparations  for 
supper.  Mince  and  apple  pies  were  brought  from 
the  store-room,  doughnuts,  cakes  of  various  kinds, 
an  immense  chicken  pie,  and  two  or  three  kinds  of 
preserves,  kept  only  for  these  state  occasions,  were 
brought  before  the  fire.  Then  the  great  table  must 
be  spread,  the  china  must  come  from  the  parlor 
closet,  for  which  purpose  the  woman  bustled  back 
apd  forth,  stopping  to  speak  to  her  guests  by  the 
way.  She  continued  her  work  quite  contentedly, 
for  she  saw  that  Jotham  was  exerting  his  powers 
to  please,  and  that  even  Amelia  was  quite  interested. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  187 

"That's  what  'tis  to  have  a  gentleman  in  the 
family,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Well,  it's  handy,  any 
way." 

When  she  returned  to  the  kitchen  with  a  tray  full 
of  dishes,  she  found  Mr.  Higglesey  there,  full  of 
wrath. 

"So  the  minister  is  here, — is  he?"  Why  didn't 
you  send  the  boy  down  to  tell  me?  A  pretty  time 
this  for  me  to  git  here!    Where's  the  boy?" 

"He's  in  the  parlor,  Enoch  Higglesey." 

"lu  the  parlor!  Wall!  If  that  aint  a  new  place 
to  put  a  working-boy!  Why  didn't  he  unload  that 
wood  ?  " 

"'Cause  I  wanted  him  in  the  parlor.  You  don't 
know  anything  about  it,  Enoch  Higglesey.  You 
think  I  can  git  all  this  supper  and  talk  in  the  par- 
lor at  the  same  time;  but  I  can't,  and  I've  got 
Jotham  in  there.  He  can  talk  grammar  as  well  as 
the  minister,  and  I  heard  him  telling  all  about  a 
book,  or  some  such  thing,  and  the  minister  was  lis- 
tening, and  the  minister's  wife  was  asking  questions, 
and  even  little  Amelia  had  drawn  her  cricket  close 
to  his  side  and  was  looking  in  his  face  as  though 
she  thought  there  was  never  anybody  as  pretty." 


188  T^B   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"Pshaw!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Higglesey.  "I  want  the 
boy  to  help  me." 

"Well,  you  can't  have  him." 

Mr.  Higglesey  went  to  the  barn  a  little  out  of 
temper,  and  Jotham  still  remained  to  entertain  the 
guests.  He  might  have  been  very  happy  but  for 
that  continual  weight  which  hung  upon  his  spirits, 
and  that  fear  lest  by  some  accident  his  home  and 
the  causes  of  his  leaving  sliould  be  discovered. 
Once  this  afternoon  he  came  near  betraying  himself. 
Mr.  Tracy  suddenly  asked,  — 

"On  what  street  does  your  father  live?  I  know 
something  of  the  city." 

Jotham  colored  and  hesitated.    Then  he  answered 

with  prevarication,  "  B ;  "  he  was  about  to  say, 

"  B street,"  but  instantly  he  changed  it  and  re- 
plied, "B place,  sir." 

Now,  as  it  chanced,  there  was  just  such  a  place 
in  the  city.  It  bore  the  same  name  as  tlie  pretty 
street  in  the  suburbs,  on  which  his  own  home  was 
situated  ;  but,  unlike  his  street,  it  was  the  haunt  of 
all  that  was  vile  and  low.  He  saw  his  mistake 
the  moment  he  had  spoken,  but  the  words  had  pasised 
his  lips  and  he  could  not  recall  them.  How  meanly 
he  felt!    How  low  he  sunk  in  his  own  estimation! 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  189 

It  seemed  as  though  another  step  had  been  taken 
from  the  path  of  rectitude.  He  had  denied  his  own 
birthplace,  and  had  assigned  his  place  amidst  the 
base  and  the  degraded  outcasts. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tracy  glanced  at  each  other,  not 
because  they  doubted  his  word,  but  they  knew  the 
character  of  this  place,  and  they  wondered  how  so 
fair  a  flower  should  ever  grow  up  in  its  midst. 
There  was  a  slight  check  to  the  conyersation,  until 
Mr.  Higglesey  came  in  and  changed  the  current  of 
thought;  but  still  Jotham  could  not  forget,  and  he 
despised  himself.  On  their  way  home  the  minister 
and  his  wife  talked  of  the  boy. 

"Is  it  possible?"  they  asked  each  other.  "Could 
a  boy  of  his  appearance  be  brought  up  in  that 
miserable  place?  Then  indeed  we  may  never  de- 
spair of  any  place." 

"I  pitied  him  so,  papa,"  said  Amelia.  "When 
you  asked  him  where  he  lived,  how  he  blushed  and 
stammered!    I  suppose  he  was  ashamed  to  tell." 

"I  noticed  it,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Tracy.  "I 
was  sorry  I  asked  him.  We  must  do  something 
for  him.  I  hope  Mr.  Higglesey  will  permit  him  to 
come  to  the  Sabbath  school." 

"Won't    they  let    him    come    to  the  party,    next 


190  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

week?"  asked  Amelia.  "I  am  sure  he  would  be 
as  pretty  as  any  boy  there  will  be." 

"That's  a  good  idea,"  returned  Mr.  Tracy.  'TU 
speak  to  Mr.  Higglesey  about  it." 

Jotham  was  not  happy  that  night. 

"  Oh,  dear! "  he  sighed ;  "  what  must  they  think  of 
me?  To  come  from  such  a  miserable  place!  What 
made  me  say  it?  Why  didn't  I  tell  the  truth?  All 
this  because  I  ran  away  from  home  in  disgrace.  Oh, 
dear !  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  did  think  I  would  go  home 
again,  but  I  never  can.  I  grow  worse  and  worse.  It 
is  just  as  Annette  used  to  say :  '  Crooked  paths  lead 
into  trouble.'  And  I  have  been  going  in  them  till  I 
cannot  find  a  straight  one." 

But  Mrs,  Higglesey's  feelings  were  far  different. 
She  expatiated"  on  the  advantages  of  having  such  a 
boy,  and  of  her  own  shrewdness  in  securing  him. 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  me,  Enoch  Higglesey,  you 
never'd  had  him.  Just  think  how  I  contrived  up  his 
clothes." 

"I  wonder  who  was  cross  when  I  brought  him 
home,"  returned  the  man,  sarcastically. 

Mrs.  Higglesey  did  not  reply ;  but  feigning  exces- 
Blve  weariness  was  soon  lost  in  the  land  of  that  for- 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  191 

getftilness  which  restores  the  weary,  and  revives  the 
faint. 

The  next  morning,  life  was  resumed  in  that  home 
of  labor  with  double  diligence.  The  loss  of  the 
previous  afternoon  must  be  atoned  for.  Jotham  wa.s 
now  pretty  well  again,  and  Mrs.  Higglesey  relaxed 
her  tenderness.  Her  craving  for  money,  and  her  un- 
ceasing industry  asserted  their  usual  sway  as  soon  as 
her  patient  was  well  again.  There  was  so  much  to 
do,  she  always  reasoned  in  excuse,  when  the  possi- 
bility of  over-work  suggested  itself. 

But  though  she  allowed  Jotham  to  work  again, 
there  was  a  bond  established  between  herself  and  the 
boy  not  easily  broken.  She  loved  him  as  much  as  she 
could  love  anything  aside  from  gain.  Many  little 
cakes,  and  turnovers,  and  choice  bits,  made  their  way 
to  him  when  he  came  in  tired  and  hungry. 

"  There,  don't  tell  Enoch,"  she  would  say.  "  He's  a 
great,  strong  man ;  he  don't  need  such  things." 

These  little  tit-bits  were  a  great  blessing  to  the  boy, 
whose  delicate  organs  of  digestion  had  never  been 
accustomed  to  coarse  food;  and  every  time  that  he 
received  such  a  favor,  his  heart  swelled  with  gratitude 
toward   the  woman  who  yet  carried  so  much  good- 


192  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

ness  beneath  the  roughness  caused  by  untoward  cir- 
cumstances. 

Winter  pressed  on.  Snow-storms  showered  their 
fleeces  upon  the  earth,  blockading  houses,  barns,  and 
roads.  Those  were  hai'd  days  for  the  lad,  when,  with 
a  shovel  he  made  paths  to  the  road,  paths  to  the 
carriage-house,  where  the  sleighs  were  stored,  paths 
to  the  barn,  to  the  corn-barn,  to  the  hennery,  and 
around  the  house,  till  the  place  seemed  a  network  of 
snowy  by-ways.  There  were  many  weary  nights, 
many  hours  of  toil,  and  many  disciplines  to  which  the 
truant  submitted,  while  only  earthly  light  afforded 
him  comfort,  and  that  was  the  affection  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey  retained  for  him.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his  labors 
he  could  see  that  with  her  nature,  such  as  it  was,  she 
loved  him. 

He  might  have  had  some  other  pleasures,  but  from 
his  dread  of  mingling  among  the  people.  Many  men 
there  went  often  to  the  city,  and  he  feared  lest  by 
some  means  his  circumstances  should  become  known. 
This  fear  and  the  untruth  to  Mr.  Tracy  dampened  his 
happiness  in  the  little  party  to  which  Amelia  insisted 
he  should  be  invited.  It  was  her  birthday ;  and  Mrs. 
Higglesey,  proud  that  Jotham  had  been  honored  by 


TBE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  193 

an  invitation,  insisted  tliat  Mr.  Higglesey  shoald  take 
him  up  in  tlie  sleigh,  and  wait  for  his  return. 

"What  shall  I  do  all  the  evening?"  asked  the  old 
man,  who  was  seldom  from  home  after  dark. 

"Do,  Enoch  Higglesey?  Why,  go  to  the  store  and 
stay,  and  smoke,  and  talk,  as  other  men  do." 

"But  I  don't  see   any  use  in  the  boy's  going." 

"Of  course  you  don't;  men  never  do  see  such 
things.  But  I  see,  and  I  reckon  Mrs.  Trencher'd  see 
the  use,  if  her  Dan  could  get  an  invitation  from 
Amelia  Tracy.  She's  the  prettiest  girl  in  all  the  town ; 
and  Dan  Trencher  can't  go  to  her  parties.  He  can't 
hold  a  candle  to  our  Jotham." 

"Our  Jotham!"  sneered  Mr.  Higglesey.  "You 
talk  as  though  he  was  ours." 

She  did  not  reply.  There  was  something  deep  in 
her  nature  that  was  never  disclosed  to  her  husband. 
She  could  not  tell  him,  that  while  the  boy  lay  burning 
on  his  sick-bed,  she  had  remembered  her  own  child 
that  passed  away  long  ago,  and  that  lived  to  her  now 
only  in  imagination.  She  could  not  tell  her  husband 
that  this  boy  seemed  to  her  like  her  own,  for  she 
feared  he  would  only  laugh  and  say  it  was  a  woman's 
whim.  Therefore,  she  turned  away,  only  adding, 
"Well,  he  must  go  to  the  part}^,  that's  certain." 
13 


194  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Mr.  Higglesey  had  been  somewhat  touched  with  the 
same  pride  as  his  wife,  for  never  before  had  a  boy  in 
their  vicinity  been  invited  to  so  select  a  place,  and  lie 
finally  consented  to  his  wife's  plan.  He  spent  a  very 
comfortable  evening  in  the  village  store,  listening 
to  the  gossip  of  the  villagers  who  strolled  in.  He 
carried  home  so  much  news  that  it  required  several 
evenings  at  the  oven's  mouth  to  retail  it  to  Betsey 
in  its  different  parcels.  Not  only  could  he  tell  all 
that  happened  in  the  town  during  the  past  months, 
but  all  that  was  to  come,  often  saying,  "  I'm  glad 
I  went." 

To  Jotham  the  evening  was  home-like,  except 
that  when  he  went  to  those  pleasant  gatherings  at 
home  with  Annette,  he  carried  a  light  and  happy 
heart.  But  now  his  conscience  was  oppressed,  and 
all  pleasures  seemed  tinged  with  sadness. 

Amelia  paid  him  especial  attention.  She  seemed 
to  feel  a  missionary  interest  in  him.  She  had  found 
him  in  a  place  that  appeared  so  little  in  harmony 
with  his  nature,  that  her  young  Christian  sympa- 
thies warmed  toward  him.  She  told  her  young 
friends  that  he  was  from  the  city,  but  forbore    to 

name  "B place,"  lest  that  might  prejudice  them 

against  him.     By  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tracy  he  was  re- 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  195 

ceived  with  the  utmost  respect,  and,  being  thus 
favorably  introduced,  he  met  with  a  cordial  wel- 
come from  all.  Before  the  evening  closed  he  had 
formed  quite  a  circle  of  acquaintances. 

Many  simple  amusements  had  been  planned  for 
the  evening,  in  all  of  which  he  could  participate, 
besides  being  able  to  introduce  some  not  known 
to  the  others.  Then  when  Amelia  played,  he  could 
stand  by  and  turn  her  music,  and  could  join  in  the 
songs  which  he  had  often  sung  with  Annette,  at 
home.  Mr.  Tracy  invited  him  to  the  Sabbath 
school,  and  before  the  evening  was  over  he  had 
nearly  forgotten  the    clouds  which  hung  over  him. 

Mrs.  Higglesey  was  delighted  with  the  result  of 
the  party.  "When  he  told  her  who  was  there,  she 
shook  her  head  in  exultation,  repeatedly  interrupting 
him,  by  saying,— 

"The  very  first  young  people  in  town,  Jotham. 
Yes,  I  tell  you,  they  belong  to  the  real  aristocracy. 
That's  pretty  tall  for  you,  I  reckon.  "Well,  if  I  do 
say  it,  Enoch  Higglesey's  got  money  in  the  bank, 
and  folks  know  it.  If  he  had  a  mind  to  he  could 
do  well  by  you;  but  I  s'pose  he  wouldn't.  Not  yet, 
but  sometime,  maybe.  If  you  are  a  good  boy  and 
live  with  us  a  long  time,  there's  no  knowing  what 


196  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

might  happen.  "We've  got  neither  chick  nor  child, 
and  I've  worked  hard  to  help  earn  what  there  is 
here.  I  reckon  I've  a  right  to  say  what  shall  be 
done  with  it,  and  sometime  I  shall  tell  Enoch  Hig- 
glesey.  I'm  sure  we  couldn't  have  a  son  we'd  be 
prouder  of  than  you,  and  when  the  time  comes,  I 
shall  say  so.  You  might  as  weU  have  what  there 
is  here,  as  anybody.    You're  a  good  boy." 

"No,  I'm  not  good,"  answered  he,  emphati- 
cally; thoughts  rushing  into  his  mind  with  over- 
powering force. 

She  smiled  as  though  his  reply  '^as  but  a  common 
expression,  such  as  men  are  wont  to  use  lest  people 
think  them  proud  of  their  own  merits. 

"  "Well,  well,"  she  said,  "  we'll  see.  Fill  up  my 
wood-box  now,  and  bring  me  a  pail  of  water." 

Jotham  considered  the  hints  she  had  given  him, 
and  he  could  allow  them  but  one  construction.  She 
wanted  to  adopt  him.  This  surely  must  be  her 
meaning,  but  instinctively  he  shrank  from  it. 
Although  she  was  so  kind,  yet  he  had  one  mother 
now,  —  a  dear  lady-like  mother  whose  heart  he  knew 
was  breaking,  and  to  whom  he  longed  to  return. 
Besides,  this  life  of  unceasing  labor  was  very  wear- 
ing to  him.    He  had  neither  strength  nor  taste  for 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  197 

it.  Yet  he  did  not  like  to  pain  tlie  honest  woman 
Tvho  was  doing  for  him  the  best  she  know. 

Dan  Trencher  heard  of  the  party  and  came  to 
see  Jothara  the  next  day.  He  found  him  in  his 
striped  frock  and  fur  cap  pumping  for  the  mid-day 
watering. 

"  Jimminy ! "  called  Dan,  rushing  up  to  him.  "  Put- 
ting into  the  mark,  aren't  you?  Getting  aristocratic 
too  ?  That  beats  me !  One  of  old  Higglesey's  boys 
invited  with  the  big-bugs!  The  gracious!  But 
say,  how  on  earth  do  you  stand  it  here?  Every- 
body said  you  wouldn't  stay  with  old  Enoch,  and 
we  thought  so  too." 

Jotham  was  not  in  mood  to  hear  this.  Whatever 
his  patrons  might  be,  he  felt  indebted  to  them.  He 
saw  that  they  were  not  malicious,  ugl3^  people.  In- 
deed, he  doubted  whether  they  were  so  depraved  as 
the  very  people  who  slandered  them,  and  he  an- 
swered, tartly,  — 

"  Ton  ought  to  be  ashamed,  Dan,  to  speak  so  of 
old  people.  I  don't  want  your  pity.  I  can  take  care 
of  myself." 

"  Oh,  well,"  responded  Dan,  "  you're  smart,  I  see, 
if  you  do  stand  in  old  Higglesey's  boots." 

"Come,"    answered    Jotham,    "don't  make  a  fool 


198  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

of  yourself.  Maybe  you  think  it's  smart  to  twit  a 
fellow  of  what  he  wears.  Maybe  you  think  the 
brains  lie  in  the  heels,  but  mine  are  in  my  head, 
and  the  boots  do  not  injure  them." 

There  was  a  snap  in  Jotham's  eye  that  warned 
Dan  against  trespassing  too  far  upon  his  temper, 
and  he  began  to  talk  of  other  subjects.  He  wanted 
to  know  about  the  party,  but  he  would  not  ask, 
and  as  Jotham  was  not  communicative,  he  went 
home  as  ignorant  as  he  came. 

"I  don't  care  anything  about  it,"  he  said  to  his 
mother  when  she  asked  him  what  he  heard. 

"But  didn't  he  tell  you  who  was  there?" 

"I  didn't  ask  him.  A  pretty  looking  thing  he  is 
to  go  to  parties.  They  ought  to  see  him  as  he 
looks  there  at  the  barn.  I  reckon  they  wouldn't 
ask  him  again.  Ask  him,  indeed!"  and  the  boy's 
face  wreathed  itself  into  scorn. 

"For  my  part,"  said  Mrs.  Trencher,  "there's 
something  about  that  boy  I  don't  understand.  He 
has  the  airs  and  manners  of  a  gentleman;  but  he 
can't  be  anything  to  go  round  in  that  rig  working 
like  a  slave  every  day.  There's  something  rotten 
In  Denmark,  as  the  saying  is,  and  I  don't  care  any- 
thina:  about  them." 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  199 

But  notwithstanding  this  assertion,  Mrs.  Trencher 
called  upon  her  neighbor  the  next  day,  and  went 
home  again  more  contented.  Mrs.  Higglesey  had 
very  joyfully  given  her  a  history  of  the  party,  as 
far  as  was  possible,  and  Mrs.  Trencher  was  satis- 
fled  ;  for  next  to  mingling  in  society  is  the  gratifica- 
tion of  getting  the  particulars  of  those  who  do. 

Thus,  with  mingled  shadows  and  light,  the  winter 
wore  away.  The  snow  began  to  melt.  There  was 
no  more  chopping  in  the  woods,  but  the  immense 
pile  at  the  door  must  be '  prepared  and  packed  into 
the  shed  for  future  use.  Day  by  day  and  hour  by 
hour  Jothara  and  Mr.  Higglesey  stood  upon  the  pile, 
while  their  axes  echoed  in  the  spring  air.  Rivulets 
ran  where  the  masses  of  snow  had  lain,  a  mild 
fragrance  was  borne  on  the  breeze,  the  cattle 
chewed  their  cuds  contentedly  where  the  wann  sun 
shone,  the  fowls  sung  their  spring-time  songs,  and 
the  lambs  skipped  merrily. 

Even  Jotham  revived  under  the  genial  influences, 
and  Mr.  Higglesey  was  often  surprised  by  his  ring- 
ing laugh,  or  keen  sallies  of  wit.  But  night  invari- 
ably brought  its  despondency,  and  while  his  head 
was  on  his  pillow,  remorse  stung  him  like  a  ser- 
pent.   There  were    so    many  recollections    to  make 


200  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Mm  unhappy,  that  he  knew  not  how  to  be  at  peace. 
When  thoughts  of  home  failed,  the  vision  of  the 
honest  Joseph  rose  to  his  mind,  —  the  boy  who  lost 
his  place,  because  he,  the  truant,  was  dishonest. 
He  often  wished  he  knew  whether  he  found  a  place, 
or  whether  his  poor>  mother  was  suffering  because 
her  boy  had  lost  his  reputation. 

Many  were  the  secret  tears  that  little  chamber 
witnessed,  and  often  he  attempted  to  pray,  but  was 
rebuked  by  conscience,  and  ceased.  How  he  longed 
for  one  confiding  friend,  just  one,  to  whom  he  could 
open  his  whole  soul,  to  whom  he  could  reveal  the 
very  depths  of  his  iniquity!  He  did  not  want  a 
friend  of  the  world,  but  one  who  knew  God  and 
Christ,  and  who  could  tell  him  whether  there  might 
be  forgiveness  and  restoration.  Sometimes  he 
thought  of  Mr.  Tracy,  and  half  resolved  to  go  to 
him;  but  then  he  shrank  from  it  lest  Amelia  should 
know,  and  he  thought  it  would  be  a  double  dis- 
grace to  be  humiliated  in  her  estimation. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  201 


CHAPTER    XI. 

HOPE     LOST. 

*HIS  is  a  terrible  storm,"  said  Harry  Wilson, 
stamping  his  feet  and  sliaking  tlie  snow  from 
his  cap.  "  It's  tough  down  on  the  coast.  Mr. 
Thompson  has  lost  a  lot  of  goods.  The  vessel  bring- 
ing them  was  wrecked  down  on  the  light-house  rocks." 

"Did  the  crew  escape?"  asked  Mrs.  Wilson,  her 
face  turning  pale  and  her  voice  trembling. 

Harry's  voice  softened,  for  he  saw  in  a  moment  the 
thouglits  of  his  mother. 

"Yes,  mother,  they  all  escaped.     They  sent  out  a 
boat   from    the    light-house    and    picked  up  all    the , 
men.     There  were  only  eight.     I  don't  believe  Jo- 
tham  was  one  of  them." 

"  He  must  be  somewhere,"  answered  the  mother. 
"  My  heart  sinks  with  waiting.  I  thought  I  should 
hear  from  him  before  this  time.  I  thought  he  would 
write." 


202  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  I  suppose  he  is  ashamed  to  write,"  replied  Harry. 

"Poor  boy!"  responded  the  mother.  "If  I  could 
but  clasp  my  arms  about  him !  He  was  always  good 
to  me.    It  was  bad  companions  led  him  astray." 

"I  think  he  led  himself  astray,"  returned  Harry. 
"  Why  don't  bad  boys  lead  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  have  a  different  temperament,  Harry !  " 

"Well,  I'm  glad  I  have.  I  think  Jotham  was 
very  mean  to  go  oflf  in  this  way." 

"  But  you  don't  know  how  he  felt,"  interposed 
Annette,  sitting  in  a  rocking-chair,  pale  and  sad. 
"He  told  me  that  night  when  I  found  him  behind 
the  rock.  He  said  he  was  ashamed  to  meet  his  ac- 
quaintances, and  that  father  hated  him.  I  wish  fa- 
ther hadn't  been  so  severe  with  him." 

Annette  sighed,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  looked  from  the 
window  with  a  glance  of  despair;  for  the  wind  blew, 
and  the  storm  increased. 

"I  can't  help  worrying,"  she  remarked.  "Every 
night,  when  the  cold  winds  blow,  I  lie  in  my  bed  and 
wonder  where  my  handsome  boy  is.  I  wonder  wheth- 
er he  has  a  protection  from  the  storm.  I  long  to  know 
whether  he  has  food,  or  whether,  in  fact,  he  is  alive. 
If  he  would  come  home,  like  the  prodigal  son,  how 
gladly  he  would  be  received  I" 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGBTENED.  203 

*'I  dori't  know,"  replied  Harry.  "Father  would 
have  something  to  say,  I  think.  You  know  father 
says,  '  Let  him  stay  away  till  he  can  behave  himself 
at  home.'" 

"Yes,  Harry,  I  know  he  says  so;  but  lately,  I  see 
his  feelings  are  more  tender.  His  resentment  is 
abated,  and  the  natural  love  which  he  cannot  sup- 
press is  subduing  his  anger.  I  think  he  would  be 
far  more  lenient  now  than  when  Jotham  first  went 
away.  I  know  that  he  thinks  of  him  often,  by  day 
and  by  night.  He  watches  every  vessel  that  goes 
out  or  comes  in.  He  goes  to  them  and  inquires  who 
are  the  men  that  are  on  them." 

"  That  doesn't  do  any  good,"  answered  Harry. 
"  Maybe  he  has  gone  to  Europe,  or  some  other  dis- 
tant country.  You  know,  if  he  has  gone  on  a  vessel, 
he  must  go  where  that  does,  if  he  is  ever  so  home- 
sick." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  responded  the  mother,  wiping  the 
tears  from  her  eyes. 

Harry  changed  the  subject  of  conversation.  He  did 
not  like  to  see  his  mother  weep.  But  though  he  won 
her  to  speak  of  other  things,  her  thoughts  still  re- 
mained with  her  absent  boy.  The  storm  increased; 
snow  filled  the  air;   the  wind  piped  in  the  chimney ; 


204  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

and  at  every  fresh  gust  the  mother  thought  of  the 
cordage  of  the  ships,  the  flapping  sails,  the  heaving 
billows,  and  trembled  for  the  boy  she  believed  to 
be  at  sea. 

Little  more  was  said  of  him  that  day ;  but  the  house 
had  a  sadness  in  it,  for  the  thoughts  of  each  were 
wandering  in  undefined  dread,  fearing,  trembling,  yet 
striving  to  hope  for  the  absent  one.  Even  Mr.  "Wil- 
son appeared  dejected  that  night.  He  was  beginning 
to  despair  of  the  return  of  the  truant;  and  when 
at  the  midnight  hour  he  listened  to  the  howl  of  the 
tempest,  the  spirit  of  repentance  came  over  him. 

"I  wish,"  he  said,  "I  do  wish  I  had  tried  another 
method  with  Jotham.  When  I  command  Harry  he 
obeys,  but  Jotham  had  a  different  disposition.  I  hap- 
pened to-day  to  be  reading  the  report  of  a  school- 
teacher ;  and  he  spoke  of  the  necessity  of  using  differ- 
ent methods  of  goverment  and  instruction  with  dif- 
ferent children.  He  said  many  scliolars  could  be  won 
by  love  who  could  not  by  driven  by  severity.  I 
thought  of  Jotham  immediately;  and  I  felt  almost 
sure  that  if  I  had  tried  love  instead  of  coercion  I 
might  have  been  successful.  He  must  liave  been 
desperate  when  he  determined  to  go  to  sea.  He  had 
not  a  nature  for  such  a  life  of  hardship,  although  he 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  205 

was  bold  and  defiant.  His  tastes  were  refined  by 
nature ;  and  if  these  boys  had  not  possessed  an  out- 
ward show  of  good-breeding,  they  could  not  have 
seduced  him." 

"You  would  not  scold  him  now,  if  he  should  come 
home,  would  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  hesitatingly  answered.  "I  do 
not  feel  just  as  I  did  about  it.  I  have  thought  no 
punishment  could  be  too  severe  for  him;  but  I  am 
not  sure.    I  may  have  been  wrong  in  my  ideas." 

Mrs.  Wilson  inwardly  thanked  God.  She  saw  that 
Jotham's  absence  was  producing  an  efifect  upon  his 
father's  mind,  which  neither  entreaties  nor  reasoning 
could  have  accomplished,  and  it  removed  from  her 
one  anxiety.  She  felt  that,  if  the  truant  should  re- 
turn, he  would  be  received  with  forbearance;  and 
now,  more  than  before,  she  longed  to  hear  his  foot- 
steps and  to  see  his  face. 

But  the  winter  passed  without  any  intelligence 
from  him,  and  spring  brought  no  tidings.  Annette 
was  quite  recovered,  and  once  more  resumed  her  stud- 
ies ;  but  her  happy  cheerfulness  could  not  come  back. 
There  was  ever  a  weight  on  her  spirits,  a  shadow 
In  her  heart.  Something  was  wanting.  A  glad  voice 
was  silent,  a  cheerful  step  was  missing.    When  she 


20ft  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

played  and  sang  there  was  a  chord  broken  iu  the  mel- 
ody, —  one  part  was  voiceless.  Little  reminiscences 
were  lying  about  speaking  mutely  of  the  absent;  a 
ball  which  it  had  been  his  delight  to  toss  in  the  air ; 
a  book,  the  gift  of  a  friend;  a  cap  partly  worn;  a 
pair  of  gloves ;  a  slate,  with  examples  half  done ;  a 
pencil  with  a  point  of  polished  roundness;  a  scrap 
of  writing,  —  all  these  were  sUent  memorials,  and  each 
was  husbanded  with  zealous  care. 

Grandfather  and  grandmother  wrote  often,  for  they 
could  not  believe  Jotham  would  be  long  absent. 

"  And  yet,  I  know,"  said  grandmother,  "  if  he  has 
gone  to  sea,  he  cannot  come  back  till  his  vessel 
comes;  so  we  must  be  patient,  and  hope  for  the 
best." 

"  I  reckon  a  sea-voyage  will  do  him  good,"  grand- 
father responded.  "  He  needed  discipline,  and  he 
will  get  it  there.  Some  of  his  braggadocio  will 
come  out  of  him,  I  fancy." 

"  But  he  was  a  good  boy,  after  all,"  returned  grand- 
mother.   "He  was  bold  and  generous." 

"He  had  an  undisciplined  confidence  iu  himself," 
replied  grandfather.  "  He  wanted  to  show  off.  This 
was  why  he  fell    a  victim  to  bad   boys.    He   must 


TBB  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  207 

needs  try  to  do  as  they  did,  because  he  thought  ib 
was  smart." 

"  Ah,  well !  "  said  grandmother,  •'  Poor  boy !  I 
hope  he  will  come  back  again." 

And  still  the  days  rolled  on,  bringing  no  tidings, 
bearing  no  hope  save  that  dormant  one  which  woald 
not  be  crushed.  The  snows  of  winter  disappeared, 
the  song  of  the  birds  trilled  in  the  balmy  air,  even 
the  city  brightened ;  but  most  of  all  the  fresh  coun- 
try prepared  for  her  adorning.  The  buds  expanded, 
the  grass  sprang  from  the  earth,  joy  breathed  on  the 
gales,  and  life  awoke  from  its  stupidity. 

But  if  spring  brings  quickening  and  joys  to  a  rural 
people,  it  also  brings  labors.  Innumerable  duties 
crowd  at  once.  In  doors  and  out  the  hum  of  in- 
dustry sings  its  multitudinous  calls.  Farmers  rise 
early  and  toil  late,  for  the  earth  invites  them  to 
open  her  pores  with  the  ploughshares  and  deposit 
in  the  furrows  the  seeds  which  shall  bring  forth 
fruit  for  man  and  beast. 

Jotham,  in  his  country  home,  watched  these  phe- 
nomena with  increasing  interest.  He  had  seen  farms, 
hitheito,  only  in  the  summer  when  they  were  decked 
in  their  fullest  livery ;  but  now  he  saw  their  barren- 
ness, and  observed  how  day  by  day,  the  new  growth 


208  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

was  struggling  to  cover  them  once  more  with 
nature's  beauties.  He  would  have  delighted  in  the 
spring-time  revel  if  he  could  have  found  time.  The 
little  calves  frisked  on  the  tender  grass,  the  lambs 
skipped,  and  he,  too,  would  have  leaped  and  frolicked 
but  for  work. 

He  thought  he  had  been  busy  all  winter;  but  now 
he  found  that  winter  had  been  but  a  play-time. 
There  seemed  no  pause,  no  cessation  now.  Eating 
was  accomplished  in  haste,  sleep  was  diminished, 
and  from  morning  till  night  it  was  dig  and  toil,  toil 
and  dig.  Even  Dan  Trencher  was  obliged  to  work 
now,  so  that  he  came  less  often  to  see  the  strange 
boy  at  Higglesey's,  who  attracted  and  repelled,  at 
once.  Everybody  was  at  work.  Only  on  the  Sab- 
bath did  neighbors  pause  to  congregate,  and  then  it 
is  possible  labor  was  in  their  thoughts.  Certainly 
it  was  in  their  conversation  as  they  waited  around 
the  church  doors  during  noon  recess. 

"  That's  a  smart  boy  o'  yourn,"  said  a  man  to  Mr. 
Higglesey.  The  two  were  standing  beneath  the 
sheds  eating  the  dinner  their  wives  had  put  in  their 
pockets. 

"That's  a  fact,  deacon,"  replied  Mr.  Higglesey. 
"I  never  saw  a  better." 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  209 

"What  do  j'ou  pay  him?"  asked  the  deacon, 
drawing  a  little  nearer,  as  though  on  the  Sabbath 
business  should  be  spoken  in  an  undertone. 

"  "Wall,  deacon,"  replied  Mr.  Higglesey,  observing 
the  movement,  <'  the  fact  is,  I  haven't  made  much 
of  a  bargain  with  him  yet.  I  shall  do  as  well  by  him 
as  anybody  would." 

•'Yes,  hem,"  responded  the  deacon;  "well,  I  was 
talking  with  the  boy  a  few  minutes  ago.  He's  just 
what  I  should  like,  and  if  you  —  " 

"Hold  on,"  cried  Mr.  Higglesey.  "  There's  no  use 
in  talking.  Deacon  Tuttle.  I  can't  spare  the  boy, 
no  way,  and  my  wife  —  why,  she  just  sets  her  life 
by  him." 

"Oh,  well,"  returned  the  deacon,  "I  don't  want 
to  be  unfair,  any  way,  but  I  thought  maybe  I  could 
pay  more  —  " 

"  There,  don't  speak  of  it,"  interposed  Mr.  Hig- 
glesey.    "I  can  pay  as  much  as  any  man,  I  reckon." 

The  deacon  said  no  more,  but  Mr.  Higglesey  went 
home  disquieted  and  narrated  the  conversation  to 
his  wife  at  the  earliest  opportunity. 

"You  see  just  how  'tis,  Betsey,"  he  said  to  his 
wife.  "All  our  little  plan  is  spoiled.  I've  got  to  pay 
the  boy  a  good  price,  or  lose  him.  He'll  find  out  he 
U 


210  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

can  get  more,  and  hell  be  off.    I  reckon  I'd  better 
make  a  bargain  with  him." 

"  If  you'd  only  do  as  I  want  you  to,"  returned  the 
woman,  "  you  wouldn't  have  to  pay  anything." 

"What?  Take  him  for  my  boy,  and  tell  him  he 
may  have  all  there  is  here  when  I'm  done  with  it 
if  he'll  only  live  with  us.  I  don't  know  about  that. 
I  guess  'twould  cost  about  as  much  as  'twould  to 
pay  him  by  the  month," 

*'  But  you  could  never  have  a  better  boy  to  work 
than  he  is.  He  never  flinches  from  anything,  aud 
'twould  be  a  good  thing  to  have  a  boy  of  our  own. 
We're  growing  old." 

"Wall,  wall,  pshaw  I  Women  are  always  full  of 
their  nonsense.  I'm  going  to  make  a  bar'^ain  with 
him.  I'll  give  him  enough  to  cut  off  the  deacou's 
chance  of  getting  him." 

The  next  day  Mr.  Higglesey  had  a  long  talk  with 
Jotham.  He  described  to  him  the  advantages  of 
being  prudent;  told  him  how  boys  grew  rich  by 
saving  as  much  as  by  earning ;  and  finally  with  a 
great  flourish,  offered  him  a  certain  sum  if  he  would 
stay  with  him  till  fall. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "this  is  the  best  thing  you 
cau  do.     You   won't  need   to   use  much  moucy  this 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED,  211 

summer,  and  when  fall  comes,  you  will  have  a  nice 
little  sum." 

"  But,"  said  Jotham,  "  Deacon  Tuttle  spoke  to  me, 
yesterday,  and  he  offered  me  more  than  you  have." 

"Wall,  wall,  then.  I'U  give  you  more.  I'll  glv^ 
you  as  much  as  he  will,  and  you  won't  have  to  work 
any  harder,  either.  The  deacon's  a  hard  master,  if 
I  do  say  it.  I'll  pay  you  all  at  once,  next  fall,  and 
you  can  carry  it  home  to  your  father.  I'll  let  you 
ride  down  to  the  city  some  day  and  see  your  folks." 

"No,  no,"  answered  Jotham,  looking  up  with  a 
start;  "I  don't  want  to  go." 

"Don't  want  to  go?  Well,  that  is  strange.  Shall 
I  call  and  tell  them  ? " 

"  No,  no  I "  responded  the  boy,  still  more  terrified. 

Mr.  Higglesey  couldn't  understand  this  refusal. 
It  indicated  something  wrong,  and  that  night,  after 
Jotham  had  gone  to  his  room,  while  the  pipe  was 
in  the  oven-flue,  he  expressed  his  opinion. 

"  Betsey,  there's  something  wrong  about  this 
boy." 

"  What's  the  matter  now,  Enoch  Higglesey  ?  " 

"Well,  Betsey,  why  don't  he  want  to  go  home? 
or  why  don't  he  want  me  to  go  there  sometime 
when  I'm  down  to  the  city  with  my  marketing?" 


212  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"Maybe  he's  ashamed  of  his  folks,  Enoch.  You 
know  B place  is  very  low." 

"  No,  Betsey,  there's  some  other  reason.  I'm 
going  to  find  his  folks  the  very  next  time  I  go 
down." 

It  was  a  week  after  this  that  Mr.  Higglesey 
loaded  his  wagon  with  market  produce,  harnessed 
his  two  horses,  and  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
started  upon  his  ride.  Not  a  word  did  he  hint  to 
the  boy  whom  he  had  called  up  to  assist  him,  but 
he   told  Betsey  he  should  never  come   home  till  he 

had  found  B place,  and  had  some  news  to  bring 

back. 

Night  came,  but  not  Mr.  Higglesey.  Jotham  grew 
anxious,  watching  the  roads  continually,  but  Mrs. 
Higglesey  seemed  quite  at  her  ease.  She  assisted 
in  milking,  finished  her  evening  household  duties, 
and  then  with  her  knitting  sat  down  by  the  open 
door  in  the  Avarm  twilight.  Jotham  took  a  seat  on 
the  low  stone  step.  The  heavy  winter  clothes  had 
given  place  to  a  simple  pair  of  overalls,  and  the  fur 
cap  had  been  exchanged  for  an  ancient  straw  hat 
left  at  the  house  by  some  former  workman.  Mrs. 
Higglesey  boasted  to  Mrs.  Trencher  that  the  boy 
hadn't  cost  them  a  single  cent  of  "  real  money,"  yet. 


THE   CnOOK  STRAIGHTENED.  213 

Jotham  sat  before  the  prudent  woman  now,  tired 
with  his  day's  work,  but  with  anxiety  on  his  face. 

"I'm  afraid  he  is  tipped  over,  Mrs.  Higglesey," 
he  said,  as  twilight  deepened  into  darkness,  and 
no  horses  appeared  in  view. 

"I  guess  not,"  she  answered.  "Enoch  Higglesey 
knows  how  to  manage  his  horses.  I  never  could  see 
how  he  was  so  careless  that  night  you  came  here." 

"  But  something  might  happen,  Mrs.  Higglesey." 

"La,  don't  you  worry,  boy.  He  had  business  in 
the  city." 

She  closed  her  lips  with  a  grip,  as  though  the 
business  was  too  important  to  be  told,  and  Jotham, 
leaning  against  the  house,  closed  his  eyes  in  weari- 
ness.   Presently  the  woman  spoke  again. 

"There'll  be  plenty  of  work  to  do,  pretty  soon," 
she  said.  "Another  man  next  week.  A  smart  one 
too.  He'll  make  work  fly.  Then  hay-time'll  come 
by  and  by,  and  then  there'll  be  three  or  four  men. 
Besides,  I'm  going  to  board  the  teacher  this  sum- 
mer." 

Jotham  listened  in  a  sleepy  mood.  He  cared  little 
what  they  did.  He  saw  nothing  in  the  life  he  was 
living  but  weariness  and  pain.  Since  the  spring 
opened,  there  had  been  no    rest,  and   many  nights 


214  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

bis  frame  quivered  from  exhaustion.  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey  seemed  not  to  understand  him,  although  she 
meant  to  be  kind.  She  had  seemed  to  change  since 
the  summer  labors  had  commenced.  The  effects  of 
the  boy's  illness  had  faded  firom  her  mind,  and  she 
had  resumed  her  former  imperious  manner.  Noth- 
ing was  too  hard  for  her  to  undertake  if  a  little 
money  was  to  be  gained,  and  the  more  numerous 
were  her  cares,  the  more  her  energies  rose  to  meet 
them.  Then  everybody  was  pressed  into  service. 
Feelings  were  nothing.  How  to  do  the  most  in  the 
smallest  space  of  time  was  the  grand  problem. 
Love  sunk  under  the  pressure,  and  was  crowded 
out  of  sight.  In  a  word,  she  drove,  and  the  family 
team  went  before  her  at  a  swift  pace. 

Sometimes  Joth^m  became  utterly  discouraged. 
He  could  see  no  end  to  his  toils.  He  was  weary  at 
night,  and  weary  in  the  morning,  yet  he  felt  bound 
to  the  woman  by  a  tie  of  gratitude.  Her  kindness 
while  he  was  sick  he  could  not  forget,  and  he  saw 
that  she  loved  him  now.  Often  some  sudden  act  of 
kindness  showed  him  her  heart,  fettered  though  it 
was  by  worldly  gain. 

An  hour  passed  this  night,  while  she  knit  by  the 
light  of  the  rising  moon,  and  he  dozed,  longing  for 


THB   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  215 

his  bed.  Then  came  the  sound  of  horses,  and  pres- 
ently Mr.  Higglesey  drove  into  the  yard.  There 
was  a  strangeness  in  his  manner.  He  said  little, 
but  when  Jotham  had  gone  to  his  chamber,  he  ex- 
claimed, suddenly,  "Betsey,  the  boy  has  lied.  He's 
got  no  folks  there." 

"I  don't  believe  it,  Enoch  Higglesey.  I  don't  be- 
lieve Jotham  would  tell  a  lie.  You  missed  'em  some 
way." 

"How  could  I  miss  'em?    I  went  down  to  B 

place,  and  I  inquired  of  everybody  there.  It's  an 
awful  place.  Ragged  children,  disconsolate  old  peo- 
ple, haggard  women,  and  ugly  men.  I  went  into 
holes  of  misery,  and  I  asked  everybody.  I  don't  be- 
lieve he  ever  lived  there.  How  could  such  a  fellow 
as  he  come  out  of  that  place  ?  I  know  he  never  did. 
He  has  lied.    There's  something  wrong  about  him." 

"What  shall  you  do?"  asked  the  woman,  stag- 
gered by  her  husband's  determined  manner.  "  Shall 
you  send  him  away?" 

""Wall,  Betsey,  I've  thought  it  all  over,  coming 
home,  and  the  case  is  like  this.  If  I  say  anything 
to  him,  likely  as  not  he'U  clear  out,  and  you  know 
the  hurrying  work  is  just  coming.  He's  a  good 
workman,  —  that  I  will  say  of  him.    He  knows  what 


216  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

he  is  about,  and  if  lie  goes  away  I  can't  make  liis 
place  good.  But  'taint  best  to  trust  him.  Don't 
let  him  know  where  your  money  is.  Don't  let  him 
know  where  anything  is,  for  I  tell  you  there's  some- 
thing wrong  about  him.    If  he  did  come  from  B 

place,  he  has  come  from  a  den  of  iniquity ;  if  he  did 
not  come  from  there,  he  has  lied,  and  there's  the 
long  and  the  short  of  it.  But  there's  one  thing  sar- 
tin.  He's  got  to  work.  You  needn't  favor  him 
nor  coax  him.  I'll  have  his  money's  worth  out  of 
him."  9 

Mrs.  Higglesey  felt  convinced  of  the  propriety  of 
her  husband's  conclusions,  and  her  faith  in  the  lad 
was  shaken.  She  saw  that  there  was  some  discrep- 
ancy for  which  she  could  not  account;  yet  when  he 
came  down  the  next  morning,  aud  she  looked  in  his 
fair  face,  she  was  loath  to  believe  him  guilty  of 
wrong.  His  eye  seemed  so  frank  and  open,  and  his 
countenance  so  expressive  of  intelligence,  that  her 
heart  denied  what  her  judgment  believed. 

But  Mr.  Higglesey  had  become  fully  prejudiced 
against  him,  and  a  new  life  dawned  upon  the  boy. 
Mr.  Higglesey  grew  harsh  toward  him.  He  no 
longer  gave  his  commands  in  a  spirit  of  kindness. 
He    ordered,    and    Jotham   was    driven   hither   and 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGBTENED.  217 

thither  without  mercy.  The  new  hired  man  felt  at 
liberty  to  imitate  his  master,  and  he  too  directed 
the  boy  till  his  young  life  was  scarcely  better  than 
if  he  had  been  bom  under  slavery. 

At  first,  Mrs.  Higglesey  tried  not  to  change  tow- 
ard him.  Her  woman's  heart  had  in  it  a  spicing  of 
tenderness;  but,  gradually,  as  Enoch's  belief  gained 
credence  in  her  mind,  insensibly  it  affected  her.  Jo- 
tham  missed  her  words  of  tenderness,  longed  for 
the  cakes  she  used  slyly  to  tuck  into  his  pockets, 
and  often  wistfully  looked  in  her  face  for  the  glances 
of  love  that  formerly  beamed  upon  him.  But  all 
love  seemed  dried  away,  and  he  thought  that  work 
had  absorbed  her  nature. 

Then  he  longed  for  his  own  mother,  or  for  some 
friend,  some  one  to  whom  he  could  look  for  one 
word  of  sympathy.  True,  Mr.  Tracy  spoke  kindly 
to  him  on  the  Sabbaths,  and  Amelia  always  gave 
him  a  smUing  bow.  His  Sabbath-school  teacher 
manifested  an  interest  in  him,  and  some  of  the 
young  people  who  had  formed  his  acquaintance 
bowed  to  him  in  the  church  aisles.  But  these  were 
only  Sabbath  occurrences,  shut  apart  from  each 
other  by  the  dreadful  weeks  at  home.  They  seemed 
rather   like    periodical   dreams    than    like    any  part 


218  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

of   his    real  life.     To  none  of   those  fi*iends  could 
he  open  his  soul's  afflictions. 

Thus  the  spring  passed,  and  summer  stole  into 
her  place.  Scorching  rays  beat  down  upon  the  la- 
borers' heads,  and  vegetation  flushed  into  luxuri- 
ance. The  busy  harrows  and  hoes  fought  with  the 
weeds  that  grew  apace ;  the  days  were  long  and  the 
nights  short.  Every  moment  of  the  latter  was  needed 
for  sleep,  yet  often  Jotham  could  not  sleep.  He 
was  too  tired,  and,  when  he  should  have  been  sleep- 
ing, he  was  often  wiping  away  the  tears  that  trickled 
from  his  eyes.  Yet  he  could  not  cry  in  peace,  for 
now  the  new  farm-laborer  was  his  bedfellow,  and, 
if  a  little  sob  attracted  his  attention,  he  laughed, 
and  called  him  a  baby. 

Thus  he  lost  the  comfort  of  his  little  chamber. 
In  that  room,  which  had  been  his  only  quiet  resort, 
there  was  peace  no  longer.  Its  sanctity  was  in- 
vaded. Besides,  he  could  not  rest,  for  the  coarse 
man,  heedless  of  the  boy,  usurped  so  much  of  the 
bed  that  there  was  scarcely  room  to  stretch  the 
young,  tired  limbs. 

Darkness  enshrouded  the  soul  of  the  sufferer. 
Turning  to  look  for  comfort,  he  saw  only  discour- 
agement.    Clouds  were    above    him,  blackness    be- 


THE    CnOOK  STItAIGHTENED.  219 

neath,  and  there  was  not  a  friend  to  help  him    in 
his  extremity. 

Yet  there  was  a  Friend.  One  unseen  was  watch- 
ing the  soul  under  discipline  for  its  own  benefit. 
He  knew  what  was  needed  by  His  child,  for  He 
had  fashioned  him  out  of  clay,  and  put  a  spirit 
within  him. 

Sometimes  Jotham  thought  of  this  Friend.  The 
hallowed  influences  which  had  encircled  his  boyhood 
could  not  be  wholly  thrown  oflT.  Sometimes,  in  the 
midst  of  misery,  Annette's  words  would  come  to 
him.  He  would  think  of  her  oft-repeated,  loving 
counsel  to  pray.  But  his  wrong  conduct  interposed, 
and  he  thought  surely  the  heavens  were  shut  against 
him.  No,  he  dared  not  pray.  He  was  too  wicked. 
Mrs.  Higglesey  saw  that  his  step  grew  less  elas- 
tic, and  that  his  cheek  was  thin;  but  her  pity  had 
faded  with  her  faith  in  him,  and  she  offered  hira 
no  hope,  no  help.  Some  days  he  dropped  upon  the 
grass  in  weariness;  but  ere  he  could  rest,  rough 
voices  called  him  to  his  work  again.  Sometimes 
he  leaned  upon  his  hoe;  but  Mr.  Higglesey  sounded 
the  note,  and  that  reprieve  was  ended.  Sometimes 
he    thought    he  would  run    away;  but    he  had    no 


220  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

money,  nor  would   Mr.  Higglesey  pay  him  till  the 
sammer  work  had  closed. 

Then  he  groaned  inwardly,  saying,  "  O  Annette ! 
How  true  were  your  words!  The  crooked  paths 
of  wrong  lead  to  sorrows;  but  straight  roads  as- 
cend to  bliss.  I  shall  never  know  that.  I  shall 
never  see  happiness  again  I " 


TMB  CSOOK  8TBAIGHTENED.  221 


CHAPTER    XII. 


ELLEN   JORDAK. 


OFT    morning   breezes    floated    in    and    out 


through  the  open  windows  of  the  old  farm- 
house. The  sounds  of  labor  mingled  with 
the  notes  of  nature.  The  hum  of  insects,  the  twit- 
ter of  birds,  the  rattle  of  dairy-pans  and  the  short 
click  of  hoes  were  the  rural  music  of  that  home- 
stead, above  which  rang  out  the  clear  voice  of  Mrs. 
Higglesey  in  command,  while  her  steps  jarred  the 
kitchen  floor  across  which  she  hastily  walked. 

"  Put  these  pans  on  the  grass,"  she  called  to 
Jotham.  "Hang  the  pails  in  the  sun.  Carry  that 
milk  to  the  pigs.  Stir  up  some  dough  for  the  chick- 
ens, and  then  bring  me  in  half  a  dozen  pails  of 
water.  Step  quickly,  now,  for  we  must  have  break- 
fast directly." 

With  hasty  steps  the  boy  obeyed.  From  order  to 
order  he  went,  fulfilling  each  in  its  turn,  and  as  he 


222  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

stood  by  the  well,  drawing  the  water  from  its  cool 
depths,  he  paused  a  moment  to  breathe.  Leaning  his 
head  wearily  against  the  rope  from  which  the  bucket 
was  suspended,  he  listened  to  a  robin  near.  Sud- 
denly another  sound  fell  upon  his  ear,  —  a  sound 
which  almost  stilled  his  pulses,  sending  the  blood 
from  his  face,  and  bringing  to  his  memory  a  rush 
of  recollections.  He  quickened  his  attention,  and 
listened  once  more.  "Was  he  in  a  dream,  or  was  it 
some  strange  reality? 

Softly  the  sound  came  again,  and  more  distinctly. 
His  pale  face  turned  toward  the  window  whence 
the  sound  p;,'oceeded,  and  then  he  understood  the 
words,  "  Our  Father  who  art  in  Heaven." 

The  boy's  hands  released  their  grasp  upon  the 
rope,  and  the  bucket  fell  into  the  Avater  with  a 
splash;  but  he  heeded  it  not.  His  only  utterance 
was  "Annette,  O  Annette  1" 

The  splash  of  the  water  attracted  Mrs.  Higglesey, 
and  looking  from  the  window,  she  called,  "  What 
you  doing  there?    Come,  be  quick." 

He  turned  toward  the  well  again,  mechanically, 
for  Mrs.  Higglesey  was  but  secondary  now.  That 
voice  from  the  window  was  all  he  heard.  He  could 
disliucLly  distinguish  the  words,  and  he  could  scarcely 


THE   CROOK  STRAIOHTENED.  223 

restrain  himself.  It  was  a  humble  prayer,  full  of 
the  spirit  of  devotion  and  love,  and  the  voice  which 
uttered  it  was  the  voice  of  his  own  sweet  sister 
Annette.    Surely  it  must  be  she. 

"  Come,  come !  "  called  Mrs.  Higglesey.  "  What 
are  you  about?    Fetch  in  that  water,  quick." 

Slowly  he  obeyed',  but  his  soul  was  in  a  tumult. 
His  thoughts  were  flashing  back  and  forth  from  this 
voice  to  his  home,  and  from  his  home  back  to  the 
voice.  "Who  could  it  be?  Was  it  a  spirit?  No. 
His  good  judgment  could  not  for  a  moment  believe 
that.  Was  it  Annette?  That  could  scarcely  be. 
He  stumbled  into  the  house  with  his  full  pail,  and  a 
quantity  of  the  water  spilled  over  to  the  floor. 

"Good-for-nothing  blunderhead!"  called  Mrs.  Hig- 
glesey, with  a  voice  heavier  than  usual.  "  What  ails 
you  this  morning?  You'd  better  mind  what  you're 
about!  That's  a  pretty  slop  now,  just  as  breakfast 
is  ready,  and  the  school-ma'am  here  too !  Haint  I 
been  all  the  morning  a-cleaning  and  scrubbing  so  as 
to  have  the  room  decent  for  her?  Get  the  mop  now, 
and  wipe  that  up  yourself.  Do  it  quick,  too,  and 
then  bring  in  some  more  water.  You  might  have 
got   two    pails   while    you  were    getting    that    one. 


224  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Enoch  Higglesey  don't  pay  for  laziness;  so  you'd 
better  take  care." 

The  boy  spoke  not  a  word,  but  hastily  obeyed 
her  directions.  His  airy  visions  had  fallen.  It  was 
not  Annette  he  heard,  it  was  the  new  school-mis- 
tress. She  had  come  the  evening  before,  and  he  had 
not  known  of  her  arrival.  So  then  there  was  no 
one  for  him  to  love,  and  his  conscience  whispered 
that  this  was  just,  for  if  he  had  left  all  that  was 
dear  to  him,   he  ought  to  suffer  the  consequences. 

Presently  the  men  came  in  to  breakfast,  and  the 
young  teacher  came  quietly'  from  her  room.  Jotham 
glanced  at  her,  and  his  eyes  involuntarily  followed 
her  movements.  There  was  no  introduction,  but 
Mrs.  Higglesey  placed  a  chair  beside  her  own,  and 
the  young  girl  took  it  witli  a  slight  bow,  and  a 
quiet  "thank  you."  She  seemed  like  a  gem  dropped 
among  those  coarse  people.  Two  working-men  be- 
sides Jotham  were  now  there,  and  Mr.  Higglesey 
felt  the  pressure  of  his  business.  AVith  rapid  mo- 
tions the  men  dipped  into  the  potatoes  and  siUt 
pork,  eating  as  though  each  was  striving  against 
the  other,  while  Mr.  Higglesey  planned  the  day's 
labor.  "We  must  have  that  corn  hoed  before  din- 
ner," he  said.     "  Haying  will  be  here  soon." 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  225 

Jotham  felt  ashamed  to  eat  so  rapidly  in  the  pres- 
ence of  those  liquid  eyes  that  were  ever  and  anon 
resting  their  gaze  upon  him,  but  he  knew  there  was 
no  alternative.  Mrs.  Higglesey  never  allowed  lin- 
gering at  her  table,  and  he  must  eat  quickly  or  go 
without. 

"  Come,  Jotham,"  said  Mr.  Higglesey,  as  the  men 
rose  from  the  table,  "get  your  hoe,  and  follow 
us." 

Once  more  the  boy  glanced  in  the  face  of  the  young 
teacher.  She  was  looking  at  hUn  earnestly.  Then 
her  large,  liquid,  brown  eyes  wandered  to  the  two 
men,  —  to  the  hard  face  of  Mr.  Higglesey,  —  to  the 
broad  countenance  and  capacious  waist  of  the  ener- 
getic mistress  of  this  household,  —  then  back  to  Jo- 
tham, and  his  cheeks  crimsoned  under  her  gaze.  He 
felt  as  though  she  was  reading  his  thoughts,  and 
trembled  at  his  own  unworthiness.  His  life  came 
in  review  before  himself,  as  though  a  judge  were 
passing  sentence  of  condemnation  upon  him.  Yet 
there  was  nothing  stern  in  that  fair  countenance : 
its.  expression  was  purity  and  love.  But  even  as 
that  morning  prayer  had  recalled  Annette  to  his 
mind,  so  those  searching  eyes  recalled  the  same 
sister's  brown  orbs  to  his  recollection.  When  Mr. 
15 


226  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Higglesey  reached  the  outer  door,  the  fascinated 
boy  had  not  moved  from  his  seat,  and  the  old 
man  looked  back  wrathfully. 

"  Why  don't  you  start,  boy  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Come 
on,  quick ! " 

The  girl  glanced  from  the  speaker  to  the  boy,  and 
Jotham  saw  her  inquiring  expression.  He  Avas  con- 
scious of  a  feeling  of  shame,  —  the  same  which  he  had 
experienced  under  the  questions  of  Mr.  Tracy.  He 
felt  ashamed  of  his  position,  because  he  knew  he  was 
where  he  ought  not  to  be.  He  knew  that  he  ought 
to  be  in  his  own  home,  attending  his  own  school,  and 
fitting  himself  for  the  duties  of  coming  manhood. 
Instead  of  that,  he  was  wasting  his  time  in  labors 
for  which,  by  nature,  he  was  unfitted.  He  was  de- 
stroying his  own  respectability  by  deserting  his  own 
home;  he  was  making  himself  unhappy,  and  was 
dishonoring  his  friends.  He  passed  out  with  tumult- 
uous feelings,  and  when  he  was  gone,  the  girl  turned 
to  Mrs.  Higglesey,  inquiringly. 

"  Is  that  your  son,  Mrs.  Higglesey?  " 

"No,  Miss  Jordan;  'tis  a  boy  we  hire.  He  came 
along  here  after  work.  "We  don't  know  who  he  is. 
He  says  his  name  is  Jotham  Wilson,  and  he  told 
where  his  folks  live;  but  we  can't  find  'em,  and  we 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  227 

expect  he  has  told  a  falsehood.    But  he's  smart  to 
work,  and  so  Mr.  Higglesey  keeps  him." 

"  Ho  is  a  fine-looking  boy,"  Miss  Jordan  replied. 

"Well,  yes,  he  is;  that's  a  fact.  I  did  think  the 
world  of  him  till  we  found  he  hadn't  told  us  the 
truth.  But  we  do  know  that  he  has  no  father  living 
where  he  said  they  lived." 

"Did  you  charge  him  with  the  untruth?" 

"No.  Enoch  said  maybe  he'd  be  angrj',  and  go 
ofi"  before  his  time  would  be  out.  You  see  he's  a 
good  boy  to  work,  and  we  don't  want  to  spare  him." 

Mrs.  Higglesey  arose  and  began  her  work,  and 
Miss  Jordan  returned  to  her  room ;  but  she  could  not 
erase  from  her  mind  the  bright,  iutelligeht  face  that 
had  been  opposite  her  at  the  table.  She  could  not 
forget  the  earnestnesss  with  which  she  had  discov- 
ered him  furtively  watching  her,  nor  the  sigh  which 
escaped  him  as  he  arose  to  follow  Mr.  Higglesey. 
She  was  strangely  interested  in  him,  and  Mrs.  Hig- 
glesey's  account  of  him  increased  that  interest. 

Her  school  was  half  a  mile  away ;  and,  as  she  could 
not  come  home  to  dinner,  she  placed  a  light  lunch  in 
her  reticule,  and  went  forth  to  her  summer's  task. 
The  birds  sang  to  her  their  morning  carol,  and  she 
looked   upon   nature    with  a   happy  heart,  while   a 


228  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

prayer  arose  to  her  lips  that  she  might  be  useful 
to  the  little  ones  under  her  charge. 

Jotham  came  in  at  noon,  hoping  to  see  her  pleasant 
face;  but  he  was  disappointed.  His  soul  had  been 
surging  vehemently  during  the  forenoon.  That  prayer 
and  those  brown  eyes  had  haunted  him.  It  seemed 
as  though  the  spirit  of  Annette  had  come  to  him, 
reproving  him  with  a  silent  gaze,  and  saying,  "Why 
do  you  so,  Jotham?    Come  home  to  me!  oh,  come!  " 

He  had  not  been  so  diligent  as  usual.  He  could 
not  work.  His  hands  utterly  reftised  their  toil,  and 
his  thoughts  careered  within  him  liJie  the  vagaries 
of  a  drunken  man.  Many  sharp  reproofs  had ,  come 
from  Mr.  Higglesey,  and  then  he  tried  to  work 
steadily ;  but  soon  his  labor  was  forgotten  in  his  ex- 
citement, and  then  Mr.  Higglesey  called  again,  — 

"What  ails  you,  boy?  If  you  expect  me  to  pay 
you,  you'd  better  work,  I  can  tell  you.  None  of  your 
laziness  on  my  farm!    Pony  up,  or  quit." 

Jotham  had  half  a  mind  to  say  "  I'll  quit ! "  but 
something  restrained  him.  The  same  guilt  which 
had  brought  him  to  this  condition  kept  him  still  in 
bondage. 

Miss  Jordan  came  home  at  night,  and  at  the  tea- 
table  the  harassed    boy  met   again   those  strangely 


TBE  CBOOK  STRAIGHTENED.  229 

fascinating  brown  eyes.  He  looked  at  them  every 
moment,  when  he  thought  they  were  not  observing 
him,  and  they  looked  at  him  in  the  same  way.  Often 
their  glances  met,  and  then  Jotham  looked  down 
confused;  but  she  smiled  at  him  in  kindness,  as 
though  she  would  win  him  to  her.  He  seemed  so 
utterly  nnlike  the  men  beside  him,  that  the  contrast 
made  him  gleam  the  brighter,  and,  besides,  there 
was  a  sadness  in  his  dark  eyes,  a  hidden  hopeless- 
ness, which,  though  never  observed  by  Mrs.  Higgle- 
sey,  was  quickly  noticed  by  the  more  gifted  teacher. 

"  I  never  saw  a  prettier  boy  in  my  life,"  she  said 
to  herself,  in  the  mute  language  of  her  own  heart. 
"How  could  they  speak  so  unkindly  to  him  this 
morning  ?  " 

The  week  passed  away  with  this  mutual  inter- 
change of  glances.  Neither  had  spoken  to  the  other, 
for  there  had  been  no  opportunity;  but  each  strove 
to  read  the  other  by  the  keen  observance  of  the  eyes. 
Miss  Jordan  felt  sure  that  if  she  could  but  become 
acquainted  with  him,  he  would  be  a  companion  for 
her,  and  she  really  longed  for  companionship.  Mrs. 
Higglesey  treated  her  with  great  respect,  but  there 
was  no  harmony  between  their  natures,  and  she  felt 
like  one  solitary.     Sometimes  at  twilight  she  walked 


230  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

in  the  yard  with  a  book  iu  her  hand,  and  wished 
for  some  one  to  mingle  thoughts  with  hers;  but  the 
twilight  hour  was  never  a  time  of  rest  at  that  home. 
There  were  the  milking,  and  numerous  other  duties, 
which  allowed  no  leisure.  She  saw  Jotham  going 
from  place  to  place,  and  she  pitied  him,  for  he  went 
like  one  compelled,  rather  than  with  a  willing  heart. 

The  Sabbath  came,  with  its  rural  stillness.  The 
day-laborers  had  gone  to  their  homes,  and  there 
gathered  around  the  morning  table  only  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Higglesey,  the  young  teacher,  and  Jotham. 
Miss  Jordan  felt  less  restraint;  and  as  the  conver- 
sation turned  upon  the  church  services  and  upon 
the  minister,  she  ventured  to  talk  quite  freely;  but 
Jotham  said  nothing.  He  was  very  unhappy.  Tlie 
week  had  brought  a  series  of  trials  to  him.  The 
presence  of  Miss  Jordan,  and  her  striking  likeness 
to  Annette,  had  kept  him  in  a  continual  agitation. 
He  had  blundered  and  he  had  been  careless.  Heavy 
reproofs  had  fallen  upon  him,  and  many  nights  he 
had  wept  himself  to  sleep. 

He  still  went  to  church,  for  Mrs.  Higglesey  con- 
sidered it  a  great  sin  to  idle  away  the  Lord's  day 
in  sleep  or  in  mere  pleasures.  At  the  hour  for 
church    Jotham    appeared   in    his    Sunday  suit.     It 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  231 

was  the  same  he  had  worn  there,  and  so  careftilly 
had  it  been  treated  that  it  was  scarcely  changed. 

"I  declare,  what  a  handsome  boy  he  is!"  Miss 
Jordan  remarked,  as  he  came  to  the  door  with  the 
horses. 

"He  looks  well  enough,"  Mrs.  Higglesey  replied; 
"  but  to  my  mind,  handsome  is  that  handsome  does." 

"I  am  sure  he  seems  to  be  good,"  the  teacher 
responded. 

Mrs.  Higglesey  shook  her  head  knowingly. 

"  I  thought  so  once.  Miss  Jordan ;  but  things  look 
too  suspicious.  I  can't  help  thinking  Enoch's  right. 
I'm  real  sorry,  for  I  could  like  him  ever  so  much  if 
I  could  be  sure  he  was  good." 

Miss  Jordan  was  puzzled.  She  could  not  reconcile 
that  bright  face  with  ugliness.  She  could  not  trace 
in  those  lineaments  any  lines  of  maliciousness  or  of 
deception.  In  spite  of  Mrs.  Higglesey's  suspicions, 
she  liked  him,  and  she  talked  with  him  as  they  rode 
to  and  from  church  together,  -^er  intelligent  ques- 
tions drew  forth  intelligent  answers,  and  she  felt  as 
though  she  had  found  one  who  might  help  to  make 
her  summer  pleasant  if  she  could  but  overcome  his 
reserve. 

That  night  slie  sat  in  her  room.     The  house  was 


232  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

quiet,  for  busy  as  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Higglesey 
through  the  week,  they  endeavored  to  keep  the  Sab- 
bath day.  Jotham  was  allowed  rest  on  that  day, 
and,  going  into  the  yard  after  the  family  supper,  he 
sat  down  under  the  shade  of  a  tree  upon  a  log 
which  lay  among  the  grass,  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands.  His  thoughts  wei'e  in  his  home,  and  his 
soul  was  full  of  remorse.  Presently  a  sound  of 
music  burst  upon  his  ear,  and  a  full  voice  sung,  — 

"  Nearer  my  God  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee." 

It  was  Annette's  favorite  hymn.  As  the  first  strain 
fell  upon  Jotham's  ear,  he  caught  his  breath,  listened 
again,  and  then  burst  into  tears.  From  verse  to 
verse  the  singer  passed,  carrying  her  listener's 
thoughts  with  her  in  each  strain.  I'resently  he 
wiped  away  the  tears,  and,  looking  up  into  the 
heavens,  thought,  not  of  Annette,  nor  of  home,  but 
of  the  singer  herself,  and  of  the  God  to  whom  she 
seemed  to  be  drawing  nearer.  She  finished  the 
hymn,  and  then,  as  though  not  satisfied,  began- it 
again.  Jotham  loved  singing,  and  Miss  Jordan's 
voice  was  very  full  and  sweet.  Once  or  twice,  tears 
started  again,  but  he  brushed  them  away,  and  by 
the  time  the  singer  reached  the  last  verse  the  sec- 


THE   CROOK  STRAIOHTENED.  233 

Olid  time,  he  had  so  far  recovered  his  natural  mood« 
that,  scarcely  conscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  he 
struck  the  chord  and  joined  the  last  line  with  his 
own  voice.  He  did  not  sing  loud,  but  the  strain 
was  heard,  and  in  a  moment  the  fair  singer's  face 
appeared  at  the  window. 

"  So  ho ! "  she  said,  with  a  smile.  "  That  was 
you,  was  it?  I  am  right  glad  you  can  sing.  Come 
In  here,  now,  and  we  will  have  some  more  music. 
I  was  just  wishing  I  had  some  one  to  help  me." 

The  boy  shook  his  head. 

"So  you  won't  come,  will  you?  "Well,  I'll  come 
out  there.  It  will  sound  all  the  better  in  the  open 
air." 

Before  Jotham  could  realize  her  actions  she  darted 
through  the  sitting-room  adjoining  her  small  room, 
and,  with  her  book  in  her  hand,  joined  him  on  the 
log. 

"What  a  nice  seat  this  is!"  she  said.  "It  must 
have  been  left  here  for  our  accommodation.  I  am 
so  glad  you  sing !  " 

"I  do  not  sing  much,"  he  responded. 

"Ah,  but  I  heard  you,  and  if  you  can  sing  one 
strain,  you  can  sing  more.     Did  you  ever  see  a  book 


234         *       THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

like  this?"  and  slie  handed  him  a  small  Sabbath- 
school  singing-book. 

"I  had  one  at  home,"  he  replied,  his  voice  quiver- 
ing. 

"Did  you?  Then  of  course  you  know  the  tunes. 
I  am  so  glad,  for  I  never  like  to  sing  alone.  At 
home  I  had  two  sisters  to  sing  with  me,  and  two 
brothers.  Such  grand  concerts  as  we  had!  Do  you 
know  this  tune  ?  " 

She  had  turned  to  "  The  Beautiful  Land,"  every 
line  of  which  was  familiar  to  Jotham  as  the  al- 
phabet. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,"  he  answered;  "but  I  can't  sing 
much.    I  don't  feel  like  it." 

"Just  so  my  brother  used  to  say  sometimes;  bat 
we'd  always  tease  him  till  we  got  him  started,  and 
then  he'd  sing  beautifully,  and  enjoy  it  too.  I  like 
to  sing  in  the  open  air,  so  we'll  sing  right  hei'e  till 
the  robins  stop  to  listen." 

She  spoke  so  rapidly,  her  voice  was  so  merry, 
and  her  manner  was  so  urgent  that  Jotham  could 
not  refuse.  He  joined  her,  timidly  at  first,  but  soon 
he  grew  interested ;  his  heart  warmed  with  the  mel- 
ody, and  he  suffered  his  voice  to  come  out  in  ful- 
ness. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  235 

"  That  was.grand,"  she  said,  as  they  closed.  "  Now 
let  us  have  auother." 

Without  giving  him  time  to  refuse,  she  turned  the 
leaves,  and  chose  another.  Jotham's  timidity  and 
almost  the  sense  of  his  guilt  passed  away  as  they 
sung  on.  His  soul  seemed  re-created,  and  his 
senses  were  carried  away. 

Mrs.  Higglesey  was  sitting  in  her  room  with  her 
open  Bible  in  her  hand.  She  always  read  her  Bible 
on  the  Sabbath,  and  spent  the  day  very  devotion- 
ally.  No  work  was  allowed  which  could  be  avoided, 
and  her  face  was  always  more  solemn  than  through 
the  week.  The  strains  of  the  singing  floated  in  at 
her  open  window. 

"Now  I  wonder,"  she  said,  rising  and  going  to 
the  window;  but  nothing  was  to  be  seen.  She  lis- 
tened again,  and  could  hear  the  soft  melody  coming 
around  the  corner  of  the  house.  "That's  some- 
body," she  observed,  emphatically,  and,  going 
into  the  kitchen,  she  looked  out  at  the  other  side 
of  the  house. 

"  There,  Enoch  Higglesey,  do  see ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"Wake  up,  and  look  out  herel  Now  if  that  aint 
a  pretty  sight!    And  they're  siuging  them   Sunday- 


236  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

school  songs  as  well  as  they  can  sing  'em  in  the 
Sunday  school  itself." 

Mr.  Higglesey  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  arose  from 
the  chair  in  which  he  had  been  dozing. 

"Now,  Enoch,  don't  they  look  pretty?  1  declare 
for*!^,  Jotham  is  handsome;"  and  then  the  old  wish 
that  he  was  her  own  boy  arose  in  her  mind,  but 
she  choked  it  down  again  by  thinking  of  his  un- 
truthftilness. 

Suddenly  Jotham  paused  and  turned  to  his  com- 
panion, — 

"Miss  Jordan,  I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  dress. 
I  did  not  think  before.  I  am  hardly  fit  to  sit  be- 
side you." 

"  No  matter,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  It  was  I  that 
came  to  you,  you  know.  Of  course  you  took  off 
your  best  suit  to  save  it.  I  would  have  done  the 
same  if  I  had  work  to  do.  Come,  let  us  sing  again ; 
but  no,  —  I  have  a  request  to  make.  Don't  call 
me  Miss  Jordan.  It  seems  too  old.  Call  me  Ellen. 
That  is  my  name.  Now  for  another  tune.  We  are 
charming  the  birds,  I  am  sure." 

"That's  a  fact,"  added  Mrs.  Higglesey,  coming  to 
the  window. 

Miss  Jordan  looked  up  and  blushed. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  237 

"I  didn't  know  we  had  an  audience,"  she  said. 
"Well,  school-ma'am,  you   needn't   be    ashamed," 
replied  Mrs.  Higglesey.     "You  do  sing  equal  to  the 
Sunday  school." 

Then  Jlr.  and  Jlrs.  Higglesey  sat  by  the  window 
while  the  two  entertained  them,  until  Mr.  Higgle- 
sey called, — 

"Wall,  wall,  boy,  that's  good;  but  no  more  now. 
You  must  get  up  the  cows." 

Jotham  dropped  the  book,  and  went  obediently. 
His  heart  was  lighter  than  common,  and  his  step 
more  buoyant. 

"He's  a  splendid  boy,"  said  Miss  Jordan,  coming 
to  the  window  where  the  old  people  sat. 

"All's  not  gold  that  glitters,"  replied  Jlr.  Higgle- 
sey ;  and  then  he  gave  the  young  lady  a  full  account 
of  his  suspicions  and  his  reasons  for  them,  adding 
at  the  close,  "There's  no  mistake,  —  there's  some- 
thing wrong  about  him." 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  replied  Miss  Jordan. 
"  He  neither  looks  nor  appears  like  a  bad  boy." 

She  thought  of  him  much  through  the  week,  though 
she  saw  him  little  except  at  table,  for  there  was  no 
cessation  in  the  work.  Early  and  late  the  boy  was 
busy,  — not  moderately  busy,  but  driving, —with  Mr. 


^j36  the  crook  straightened. 

Higglesey  ever  prompting  him.  Yet,  even  in  the 
midst  of  his  labors,  there  was  a  new  light  in  his 
soul.  Miss  Jordan's  pleasant  face  met  him  at  table, 
and  he  felt  the  influence  of  her  presence.  She  became 
to  him  as  something  sacred.  He  compared  her  with 
Annette,  and  he  saw  much  that  was  similar,  and  much 
that  was  different.  She  was  more  lively  than  Annette, 
more  mirthful.  He  remembered  Annette  as  tender 
and  serious,  full  of  deep  thought ;  but  Miss  Jordan, 
though  equally  religious,  was  playful  and  fun-loving. 

The  next  Sabbath  was  rainy.  They  could  not  go 
out,  and  Miss  Jordan  persuaded  him  to  go  to  her 
room. 

"Don't  you  love  to  read?"  she  asked.  "Come, 
I  have  a  few  books,  and  we  will  read  them  to- 
gether." 

That  was  a  day  of  delight  to  the  boy. 

"  O  Miss  Jordan ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  sat  down  by 
her  table,  "  I  haven't  seen  a  book,  except  the  Bible, 
since  I  have  been  here.  I  don't  believe  there  is  one 
in  the  house." 

"No,"  she  answered,  laughing;  "there  is  money 
in  this  house,  —  that  is  all.  But  I  do  not  believe  in 
that  way.    I  like  my  father's  way.     He  spends  his 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  239 

money  for  books  and  papers,  and  things  that  make 
life  pleasant." 

Then  she  went  on  and  gave  Jotham  a  history  of  her 
family,  and  described  the  place  where  they  lived. 

"  There,"  she  added,  pleasantly,  "  I  have  told  you 
who  I  am ;  now  tell  me  who  you  are." 

"  O  Sliss  Jordan ! "  he  responded,  half  thrown  off 
his  guard  by  her  confiding  persuasiveness. 

"  Well,"  she  returned,  smiling. 

"I  can't  tell  you.  Miss  Jordan.    I  am  nobody." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  she  returned.  "Nobody!  Why,  I 
read  a  story  once  about  Nobody,  and  a  sorry  time 
he  had  of  it.  No,  indeed,  you're  not  nobody,  and  I'm 
not  the  only  one  who  thinks  so.  I  know  some  one 
that  thinks  you  are  somebody,  and  a  good  deal  of 
somebody,  too." 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked,  with  curiosity. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  when  you  have  told  me  who 
you  are." 

"  Why,  I'm  Jotham  Wilson,"  he  replied,  making 
an  effort  to  speak  cheerfully. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  that;  and  Mrs.  Higglesey  told 
me  you  came  from  the  city.  Now  I  want  to  know 
this:    have  you  a  father?" 

"Yes." 


240  THE   CROOK  STRAW BTENED. 

"And  a  mother?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  a  sister?  " 

"Yes;   one." 

"What  is  her  name?" 

"  Annette." 

"  Annette !  "What  a  pretty  name  I  How  old  is 
she?" 

"  Two  years  older  than  I  am." 

"Just  a  year  younger  than  I  am,  then,  because  I 
am  three  years  older  than  you,  you  know.  I  wish 
I  could  see  her.    Is   she  pretty?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Miss  Jordan,  she  is  very  pretty.  She 
looks  like  you." 

"Pshaw!  you  make  me  blush!  Have  you  a 
brother?" 

"Yes;  one." 

"Do  you  go  home  often?" 

"I  haven't  been  since  last  fall." 

There  was  a  tremor  in  his  voice  as  he  said  this, 
and  a  look  of  painfhl  agony  crossed  his  face.  Miss 
Jordan  noticed  it,  but  forbore  to  mention  it.  She 
felt  that  she  had  no  riglit  to  question  him  fhrther. 
She  saw  that  some  mystery  lay  concealed,  but  chari- 
tably thought  some  misfortune  had  overtaken  him, 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  241 

and    then    she    tried    to    cause    him   to   forget   his 
troubles. 

"Well,"  she  said,  laughing,  "you  have  told  me  who 
you  are ;  now  I  will  tell  you  who  it  is  that  thinks  you 
are  somebody.    It  is  Amelia  Tracy." 

Jotham  colored,  and  his  heart  went  pit-a-pat,  in 
spite  of  his  efforts  to  restrain  it.  Miss  Jordan  smiled 
at  the  effect  of  her  words,  and,  seeing  that  she  had 
put  joy  in  the  place  of  sorrow,  she  selected  a  book, 
and  they  sat  down  to  read.  The  day  fled  rapidly 
to  the  boy,  whose  mind  was  famishing  for  books, 
and  he  thanked  Miss  Jordan  for  the  kindness  she 
had  shown  him. 

Then  another  week  went  by,  and  haying  com- 
menced. Another  workman  came,  and  Mr.  Higgle- 
sey  seemed  endowed  with  the  fire  of  youth.  He 
was  never  weary.  He  could  swing  the  scythe  as 
vigorously  as  his  smartest  man,  and  not  only  did 
he  work  continually  himself,  but  his  men  caught 
the  spirit,  and  the  whole  farm  seemed  alive  with 
labor. 

16 


242  TJXE  CBOOK  STRAIGHTENED. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SUDDEN    DEPARTURE. 

JORDAN  loved  to  walk  at  the  twi- 
light hour.  Sometimes  she  rambled  in  the 
fields,  and  plucked  the  wild  finiits,  or  gath- 
ered flowers  for  her  room.  There  were  none  here 
to  walk  with  her,  for  all  were  too  busy  to  pause  in 
admiration  of  the  beauties  of  nature.  One  evening, 
the  zephyrs  fanned  the  heated  air  so  refreshingly 
that  she  was  tempted  beyond  her  usual  limits,  and, 
strolling  down  the  lane,  entered  the  pasture  from 
which  the  cows  had  just  been  driven.  Little  hill- 
ocks of  moss  and  checkerberry  dotted  the  surface, 
a  few  trees  were  scattered  about,  and  a  brook  gur- 
gled its  way  down  the  gentle  declivity.  Beyond, 
dark  woods  bounded  the  irregular  field. 

She  wandered  on,  up  and  down  by  the  brook, 
till  dark  shadows  were  about  her,  and  she  felt  that 
she    ought'  to    return.      Yet    the    coolness  was  re- 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  243 

freshing,  her  heart  was  attuned  to  praises,  and  she 
was  loath  to  go  back  where  loud  voices  would  jar 
the  harmony  of  her  communings.  It  was  nearly 
dark  when  she  slowly  retraced  her  steps.  Near  the 
foot  of  the  lane  which  led  to  the  house,  there  was 
a  ledge,  or  mass  of  broken  rocks  piled  in  conftision, 
around  which  the  cattle  had  worn  a  well-trodden 
path.  Into  this  path  she  stepped,  under  the  shadow 
of  the  rocks,  and  slowly  walked,  picking  her  way 
carefully.  She  was  just  ready  to  emerge  again,  when 
a  faint  noise  arrested  her  attention. 

She  was  frightened  a  little,  for  the  noise  seemed 
to  be  human,  and  she  wondered  who  could  be  hid- 
den in  that  desolate  ledge.  Involuntarily  her  steps 
quickened,  and  she  was  hastening  on,  when  a  second 
sound  came  louder  than  the  first.  It  was  a  moan, 
a  half-wail  of  anguish,  and  the  young  lady  paused. 
Then  there  came  another  groan,  still  more  distinct, 
and  she  said   to    herself,  — 

"Surely,  that  is  Jotham.    Can  he  be  here?" 

The  sighs  continued,  and  as  she  could  distinguish 
nothing,  she  called,  — 

«*  Jotham ! " 

There  was  a  hush.  Not  a  response  followed  her 
call,  and  she  spoke  again, — 


244  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  Jotham! 

Bat  there  was  no  reply.  Confident,  however,  that 
he  was  there,  she  passed  around  the  ledge,  scruti- 
nizing every  crevice  as  closely  as  the  darkness 
permitted,  till  on  the  opposite  side  she  found  a 
crouching  form.  The  face  was  buried  beneath  the 
hands,  and  the  body  was  convulsed  with  sobs.  She 
laid  her  hands  upon  his  shoulder,  and  spoke  gently. 

"  Jotham,  why  are  you  here?" 

"O  Miss  Jordan  1  I  didn't  know  you  were  here. 
I  thought  I  was  alone." 

"But  why  are  you  here,  Jotham?  And  why  are 
you  so  distressed?" 

"  O  Miss  Jordan  1  There's  a  cow  lost,  and  Mr. 
Higglesey  sent  me  to  find  it." 

"And  is  that  why  you  cry?  Come,  I'll  go  with 
you.    Where  do  you  suppose  she  can  be?" 

"I  don't  know.  Miss  Jordan." 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  worry.  It  is  too  dark  to  see 
far,  but  we'll  wander  about  a  little.  Maybe  we'll 
hear  her  somewhere.  Perhaps  she  likes  the  cool 
evening,  just  as  I  do,  and  has  walked  about  to 
refresh  herself.  Come,  let  us  follow  the  brook 
down  a  little  way." 

Jotham  repressed  his  sobs  and   arose.     He  was 


THE    CROOK  STRAiaHTENED.  245 

ashamed  to  refuse  her  offer,  but  still  the  agony  did 
not  leave  him,  and  not  even  her  cheerful  conversa- 
tion could  enliven  him.  At  length  they  reached  a 
mossy    bank  without  hearing  or  seeing  the  truant. 

"  I  can't  go  any  further,  —  indeed  I  can't,"  he 
said,  dropping  upon  the  moss.    "I'm  so  tired." 

"Poor  boy!"  she  responded.  "I  don't  wonder 
you  are  tired.  They  are  great  workers  here,  and  I 
am  sure  you  have  never  been  used  to  work.  Let 
us  sit  here  a  few  minutes  while  you  rest.  We 
cannot  find  the  cow." 

"But  Mr.  Higglesey  told  me  not  to  come  back 
without  her,"  he  rejoined. 

"Ah,  but  you  can't  find  her!  Very  likely  she  is 
somewhere  in  the  woods.  She  must  stay  until 
morning." 

The  boy  sighed. 

"  I  dare  not  go  home  without  her,  Miss  Jordan. 
Mr.   Higglesey  will  scold  more  than  ever." 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  him  myself.  He  ought  not  to 
be  cross  about  it.  My  father  has  a  farm,  you 
know,   and  the  cows  are  often  gone  over  night." 

"But  I  guess  your  father  isn't  cross,"  he  added, 
looking  up  at  her  by  the  light  of  the  stars  which 
were  now  twinkling  above  tlicin. 


246  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"No,  indeed  he  isn't,  Jotham.  But  there  is  one 
thing  puzzles  me.  May  I  ask  you  a  question,  and 
will  you  forgive  me  if  I  seem  impertinent?" 

"I  will  forgive  you  anything,  Miss  Jordan." 

"Tell  me,  then,  how  you  came  here,  and  why 
you  stay  here?" 

He  did  not  answer.  A  rush  of  thought  seemed 
to  overpower  him,   and  she  repeated  her  question. 

"Believe  me,"  she  added,  kindly,  "it  is  not  idle 
curiosity  that  prompts  my  question.  I  have  no 
wish  to  learn  forbidden  secrets.  But  I  feel  a 
strange  interest  in  you.  I  see  you  in  a  position  for 
which  you  seem  totally  unfitted.  You  are  intelli- 
gent. Your  manners  are  refined.  You  must  have 
had  a  good  home.  Now  we  all  know  that  God  has 
made  people  different.  Some  have  capacities  for 
business,  some  are  machinists,  some  mechanics, 
some  are  doctors,  some  lawyers,  some  scholars, 
some  ministers,  and  some  have  a  natural  aptitude 
for  farming.  All  people  ought  to  pursue  that  occu- 
pation for  which  they  are  fitted.  You  seem  to  me 
out  of  place.  You  are  not  strong  like  a  boy  trained 
to  work.    Tell  me,   do  you  like  this  business?" 

"No,   Miss  Jordan,   I  do  not." 

"Docs   your  father  compel  you  to  stay  here?" 


THE   CROOK  STItAIGBTENED.  247 

Jotham  did  not  reply,  but  the  tenderness  of  her 
manner,  so  like  the  ways  of  his  own  sister,  quite 
overpowered  him,  and  he  burst  into  tears.  Miss 
Jordan  appeared  distressed. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said.  "  I  did  not  mean  to 
pain  you.    I  thought  I  could  comfort  you." 

"I  do  not  deserve  comfort,"  he  murmured  be- 
tween his  sobs. 

"Not  deserve  comfort!  Why,  yes,  you  do!  The 
meanest  criminal  is  worthy  of  pity  and  comfort. 
Bad  people  are  often  made  good  by  sympathy  and 
love.    You  are  not  bad,  I  am   sure." 

"  I'm  the  meanest  person  in  the  world,"  he  ad- 
ded. "  You  do  not  know  how  wicked  I  am.  You 
woujd  not  speak  to  me  if  you  knew." 

"O  Jotham!  I  do  not  believe  that.  But  do  not 
cry  so.  I  wish  you  would  let  me  be  your  friend. 
Come,  while  we  are  resting,  tell  me  all  about 
yourself.  You  will  feel  better.  Just  imagine  that 
you  are  talking  to  Annette.  Didn't  you  tell  her 
your  secrets  and  troubles  sometimes?" 

"  Yes."     ^, 

"I  thought  so.  My  brothers  tell  me  things  that 
they  wouklut  mention  to  Mher  and  mother.    You 


248  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

know  sisters  can  always  sympathize.  Tell  me  why 
you  feel  so  wicked."  * 

There  was  a  great  struggle  in  Jotham's  mind.  He 
had  longed  for  a  friend,  and  now  one  had  come  to 
him;  but  could  he  tell  her?  Wouldn't  she  turn  from 
him  in  disgust?  He  brushed  the  tears  from  his  eyes, 
looked  up  at  the  heavens,  then  down  at  the  earth, 
then  turned,  sighed,  and  at  last  said,  — 

"  If  I  tell  you  a  little,  Miss  Jordan,  I  must  tell 
a  great  deal." 

"Well,  that  is  what  I'd  like.  Tell  me,  first,  what 
sent  you  here.    Is  your  father  very  poor?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  Miss  Jordan !  It  was  because  I  was 
so  wicked." 

"  But  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

Jotham  struggled  a  moment  longer  with  his  feel- 
ings, then  the  ice  broke,  and  he  said,  "I  did  so 
many  things,   so  many." 

Then  he  began  his  life,  and  rehearsed  his  story  to 
her  without  prevarication.  All  the  manly  honesty 
of  his  nature  flowed  from  his  lips.  He  did  not  pal- 
liate a  single  crime,  and  she  listened  attentively. 
Once  started,  it  seemed  a  relief  to  him  to  talk,  and 
his  words  came  rapidly,  like  a  pent-up  torrent  sud- 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  249 

denly  broke  forth.     His  tears  ceased,  and  his  heart 
unburdened  itself  of  its  misery. 

"Truly,"  said  Miss  Jordan,  at  the  close  of  the 
narrative,  "' the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard.'" 

Jotham  dropped  his  head.  Her  remark  had  little 
of  encouragement,  but  she  quickly  asked, — 

"What  do  you  think  I  advise  you,  Jotham?" 

"I  don't  know.  Miss  Jordan." 

"Well,  I  advise  you  to  write  to  your  father." 

"Oh,  I  dare  not!" 

"Why  not?  Do  you  think  he  will  never  forgive 
you?  I  know  that  he  is  longing  to  know  where 
you  are.  And  think  of  your  mother  and  Annette. 
Think  of  the  sorrow  your  absence  causes  them." 

"But  if  I  go  home,  they  would  be  ashamed  of 
me." 

"And  are  not  they  ashamed  now?  When  peo- 
ple ask  them  whether  they  have  heard  from  you, 
is  not  shame  mingled  with  regret  in  their  an- 
swers ?  " 

"  But  I  can  never  go  home.  Miss  Jordan.  I  could 
not  meet  my  friends  in  the  street.  They  would 
point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  me." 

"Perhaps  so.  That  would  be  one  of  the  pen- 
alties   you    mubt    pay  for  vv  roiig-doing.      You    have 


250  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

got  into  a  path  where  there  are  briars.  You  must 
expect  to  get  scratched  in  coming  out.  But  what 
is  the  finger  of  scorn  compared  to  the  conscious- 
ness of  doing  right?  Get  into  the  way  of  duty, 
Jotham,  and  then  stand  firm.  You  are  not  a  cow- 
ard, I  hope." 

"I  wasn't  —  once  —  Miss  Jordan,  I  don't  know 
what  I  am  now." 

"  But  you  are  no  coward  now.  I  am  sure  of  that. 
Let  me  think.  Let  me  count  the  list  of  your  of- 
fences. The  very  first  step  in  your  disobedience 
was  when  your  father  told  you  not  to  go  with 
those  boys  whom  he  believed  improper  compan- 
ions. You  disobeyed.  You  secretly  went,  and 
they  led  you  into  all  your  troubles.  They  taught 
you  to  smoke,  to  drink,  to  gamble  in  their  waj^  to 
play  truant  from  school,  to  use  bad  words,  and 
finally  persuaded  you  to  help  rob  an  old  woman's 
fruit-trees ;  then  you  were  cauglit,  put  in  the  lock- 
up, your  father  took  you  out,  and  reproved  you. 
You  ought  to  have  expected  this  reproof.  You 
ought  to  have  submitted  quietly;  but  you  would 
not  bear  it.  You  ran  away.  You  left  your  father 
because  you  thought  him  harsh,  and  here  you  are 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  251 

in  the  hands  of  a  master  who  knows  no  mercy. 
You  have  not  gained  much." 

"  But,  Miss  Jordan,  you  know  I  have  not  seen 
my  father  since  my  last  oflfence,  which  was  running 
away.    Do  you  suppose  he  would  forgive  me?" 

"Certainly,  I  do.  Did  you  ever  read  the  story 
of  the  prodigal  son?  They  would  kill  the  fatted 
calf,  and  bring  forth  the  best  robes  for  you  in  your 
home  now,  Jotham,  and  neither  Annette  nor  Harry 
would  be  unwilling  to  see  you  feasted.  "Why,  if 
you  were  my  brother,  I  would  do  everything  to 
show  you  my  joy  at  your  return.  Let  us  go  home. 
You  must  write  this  very  night." 

"  I  am  so  tired,  I  cannot." 

"  Let  me  write,  then.  I  will  write  -to  Annette. 
I  should  like  to  know  her.    You  say  she  is  good." 

"  O  Miss  Jordan,   she  is  very  good." 

"Now,  Jotham,  I  will  write  to  her,  and  you  shall 
read  the  letter.  We  will  not  say  a  word  to  any 
one  here ;  but  there  is  One  to  whom  you  ought  to 
speak." 

"To  whom?"    he  asked,  looking  in  her  eyes. 

She  pointed  her  finger  upward  with  a  reverent 
look. 


252  TRE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"0  Miss  Jordan,  I  cannot.  I  dare  not.  God 
would  not  listen  to  me." 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Jothara.  Is  not  God  a  Spirit? 
Is  he  not  about  us  and  in  us  ?  Does  he  not  see  and 
know?  Would  he  not  be  merciful  who  satisfioth 
the  wants  of  every  creature?    You  must  pray.    You 

say  that  you  promised  your  grandmother  that  you 

« 
would  pray  every  day.    If  you  had  kept  that  prom- 
ise, you  would  now  be  in  your  happy  home.    Come, 
let  us  go  to  the  house." 

"But  the  cow.  Miss  Jordan, — the  cow!  I  had 
forgotten  her.    I  cannot  go  up  without  her." 

"You  cannot  find  her  now.  It  is  late,  and  the 
stars  are  our  only  light.  See  those  woods  stretch 
along  there.    Very  likely  she  is  in  there." 

"  But  Mr.  Iligglesey  will  scold  so." 

"Never  mind  that.  It  was  not  your  fault  that 
the  cow  went  away.  She  will  come  in  the  morn- 
ing. Think  of  the  new  hopes  that  await  you.  If 
they  scold,  be  quiet.  Do  not  reply  angrily.  Eemem- 
ber  that  I  am  your  friend.  No  —  I  do  not  say  that ; 
—  remember  that  God  is  your  friend.  Look  up  to 
him.  Let  holy  purposes  fill  your  thoughts.  Let 
high  resolves  be  yours.  Determine  to  be  in  the 
future  so  noble  that  the  past  shall  be  forgotten." 


THE   CROOK  STRAianTENED.  253 

"  Oh,  I  never  can  remove  this  stain,  Miss  Jordan ! 
People  will  never  think  well  of  me." 

"Oh,  yes,  they  will!  Look  to  God.  He  will  hglp 
you." 

Slowly  they  walked  to  the  house,  talking  as  they 
went,  and  Jotham  felt  as  though  he  had  emerged 
into  a  new  world.  He  looked  upon  the  young 
teacher  almost  as  though  she  were  some  angel  of 
light  who  had  been  appointed  to  bear  away  his  bur- 
dens. Even  the  hem  of  her  garment  seemed  sa- 
cred. As  they  came  near  the  door  she  dropped  her 
serious  mood,  and  resumed  her  natural  sprightliness. 

"Now  I'll  tell  you,"  she  said,  softly,  "I'll  manage 
about  the  cow.  Mr.  Higglesey  won't  dare  scold 
me,  you  know." 

The  old  man  was  at  the  door,  listening,  and,  as 
the  sound  of  footsteps  drew  near,  he  came  out  and 
peered  through  the  darkness,  calling  loudly, — 

"Where's  the  cow,  boy?  Have  you  come  up 
without  her?    If  you  have  you  —  " 

"O  Mr.  Higglesey,"  interrupted  Miss  Jordan, 
"  we  can't  find  her  anywhere." 

"  You,  school-ma'am ! "  said  the  old  man,  in  aston- 
ishment. "How  did  you  come  out  here?  Where've 
you  been?" 


254  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

"  Oh,  I  was  down  in  the  pasture  after  checker- 
berries  and  raspberries  and  wild  flowers,  and  Jo- 
tham  came  down  for  the  cow,  so  I  went  with  him, 
but  we  couldn't  find  her.  It  is  too  bad,  isn't  it? 
I  am  so  sorry.  Sometimes  ours  get  away,  and 
mother  always  feels  .so  badly,  because  she  loses  the 
milk,  you  know.  There  are  ever  so  naany  perplex- 
ities in  this  world,  aren't  there,  Mr.  Higglesey?  I'm 
snre  I  find  them.  Even  in  my  school  things  won't 
always. go  right,  and  of  course  they  can't  always  go 
right  with  you,  especially  as  you  have  so  much  to 
take  care  of.  Why,  people  say  you  are  the  richest 
man  in  town,  and  have  money  in  the  bank." 

Now  the  young  lady  had  touched  the  chord  which 
vibrated  most  easily  at  the  sweep  of  flattery.  He 
was  proud  of  being  thought  rich,  and  the  quick 
words  of  the  girl  had  borne  him  quite  away  from 
his  fretfulness,  and  lifted  him  up  into  the  regions 
of  self-respect.  He  would  not  use  his  customary 
language  in  her  presence,  and  Jotham  went  upstairs 
with  a  thankful  heart. 

But  though  he  had  escaped  the  master,  the  mis- 
tress was  not  so  easily  foiled.  She  called  after  the 
boy  and  bade  him  come  down. 

"Where's  the  cow?"  she  asked. 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  255 

"I  don't  know,  ma'am.    I  couldn't  find  her." 

"  Couldn't  find  her !  You  didn't  try.  Now  I  must 
lose  a  brim  pailful  of  milk,  just  by  your  careless- 
ness. Why  didn't  you  look  for  her  x^-hen  the  other 
cows  came?  Why  didn't  you  count  and  see  if  they 
were  all  there  ?  I  tell  you,  do  you  be  up  by  the  first 
streak  of  dawn,  and  be  off  with  yourself,  and  don't 
you  come  back  till  you  have  found  the  cow." 

An  hour  sooner,  the  boy  would  have  felt  that  his 
last  flriend  had  forsaken  him;  but  now  there  was  a 
warmth  within  his  breast.  He  had  a  new  friend, 
one  far  dearer  and  better  than  Mrs.  Higglesey.  He 
no  longer  carried  his  sorrows  alone.  He  had  lain 
wakefuUy  in  his  chamber  many  nights  from  sorrow; 
now  he  could  not  sleep  from  excess  of  joy,  and  at 
the  first  gray  dawn  the  voice  of  Mr.  Higglesey  rang 
in  his  ears,  with  a  shrill  morning  call,  — 

"Be  up,  and  off  with  you!  Don't  you  come 
back  without  that  cow.  If  you  do,  you'll  catch  it. 
The  school-ma'am  won't  get  you  off  again  so  easy." 

Owing  to  the  warmth  of  the  night.  Miss  Jordan 
left  her  door  open,  and  heard  the  rough  tones  of 
Mrs.  Higglesey. 

"Poor  boy!"  she  said  to  herself.  "Before  I 
sleep,  I'll   write  to  his  sister.    I  am  sure  they  will 


256  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

take  him  home  again,  and  that  is  where  he  ought 
to  be." 

Her  neat  letter  was  written  and  laid  away  for 
Jotham's  inspection ;  then  with  a  prayer  and  a  smUe 
of  contentment  she  closed  her  eyes  in  peace.  Mr. 
Higglesey's  rude  call  at  the  early  hour,  and  Jotham's 
weary  step  down  the  stairs  disturbed  her  morning 
slumbers;  but  she  thonght  of  the  letter  which  she 
was  sure  would  bring  relief,  and  determined  to  send 
it  at  the  first  opportunity. 

The  breakfast  hour  came  but  no  Jotham.  Mr. 
Higglesey  grew  impatient. 

"Fine  job,  this!"  he  muttered.  "The  very  best 
hay  weather  of  the  season,  and  here's  the  boy,  gone, 
nobody  knows  where.  "What's  going  to  become  of 
his  work,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"  And  I'd  like  to  know  what's  to  become  of  the 
cow!"  said  Mrs.  Higglesey.  "There's  my  cheese. 
'Twill  miss  that  milk,  I  reckon.  Some  of  your 
fences  are  rotten,  Enoch  Higglesey,  and  the  cow 
has  got  out." 

"My  fences  are  not  rotten,"  replied  the  farmer, 
indignant  at  the  charge.  "You'll  have  to  mUk, 
Betsey,  when  the  cow  comes.  I'd  like  to  give  that 
boy  a-thrashing." 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  257 

Miss  Jordan  looked  in  the  farmer's  angry  face, 
and  thought  how  love  of  money  and  a  life  of  slavish 
labor  had  debased  him.  She  wondered  why  Jotham 
should  be  thrashed  because  the  cow  had  escaped, 
and  again  she  remembered  her  letter  to  Annette, 
trusting  that  the  boy  would  be  liberated  from  his 
servitude,  be  restored  to  his  home  and  to  the  paths 
of  integrity. 

She  was  not  there  at  noon.  She  did  not  see  the 
excitement  when  Mr.  Higglesey  came  in  and  learned 
that  the  cow  had  come,  and  Jotham  had  not. 

"  The  rascal  I "  shouted  the  old  man.  "  I'll  give  it  to 
him  when  he  comes !  He's  off  getting  rid  of  wprk. 
I  seed  him  dragging  round  yesterday.  I  knew  he 
w^as  getting  lazy.  A  good  deal  he's  after  the  cow, 
and  she  all  the  time  at  home  I  Which  way  did  she 
come,  Betsey?" 

"  Why,  she  came  up  the  road,  and  I  thought 
every  minute  I'd  see  Jotham  behind  her.  Strange! 
He  didn't  have  no  breakfast,  you  know,  and  here 
'tis  noon." 

"I'll  give  it  to  him,"  growled  the  wrathful  man. 
"  I'll  teach  him  not  to  spile  another  day's  work  in 
the  middle  of  haying." 
Miss    Jordan    returned  at  night,  but   Jotham  had 
17 


258  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

not  come.  She-  was  troubled.  She  remembered  his 
discouragements,  thought  of  the  tale  he  told  her  the 
night  before,  and  feared  that  in  remorse  he  had 
committed  some  desperate  deed. 

"Poor  boy!"  she  mused.  "He  feels  like  an  out 
cast,  and  he  has  committed  some  new  act  of  folly, 
I  believe." 

'  But  she  did  not  betray  him.  That  which  he  had 
imparted  to  her  in  secret  remained  a  secret  still. 
She  sat  by  the  window  and  watched  for  him,  hoping 
»  that  night  would  bring  him;  but  darkness  shut  her 
curtains  down,  and  he  was  still  away.  Then  she  could 
not  avoid  forebodings,  and,  as  the  night  previous  she 
had  knelt  in  thankfulness,  so  now  she  knelt  in  humble, 
agonizing  prayer.  She  prayed  for  the  wanderer,  that 
he  might  be  restored  to  the  path  of  rectitude. 

Mi's.  Iligglesey  was  perplexed,  and,  in  truth,  anx- 
ious. She  had  never  ceased  her  interest  in  the  bright 
boy,  although  she  had  been  harsh  to  him  of  late, 
through  her  husband's  representations  that  some- 
thing about  him  was  wrong. 

But  Mr.  Higglesey  was  decidedly  angry. 

"I  might  have  known  'twould  turn  out  so,"  he 
said.  "  He  was  a  street  vagabond ;  I've  no  doubt. 
B place   was  probably   his    home.      I  guess  ill 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  259 

never  pick  up  another  fellow  in  the  road.  Now  here 
I  am  in  the  midst  of  my  haying  without  a  boy. 
Wall,  Betsey,  there's  one  consolation:  I  haint  paid 
him  nothing  yet.  What  he  has  done  I've  got  for 
nothing." 

"  That's  a  fact,  Enoch  Higglesey.  'Tis  an  ill 
wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good.  He's  never  cost 
US  a  cent  of  money  yet,  and  he  has  done  a  good  deal 
of  work;  and  he  could  do  any  kind  of  work  too. 
He  was  nobody's  fool.  I  hope  folks  won't  find  out 
he's  gone,  'cause  they're  always  telling  how  hard 
people  work  here,  and  they'll  say  he  went  off  'cause 
he  had  such  a  hard  time." 

But  people  did  hear  of  it.  The  neighbors  were 
soon  aware  of  the  absence  of  the  smart  boy  who 
could  work  fast  enough  to  please  old  Enoch  Hig- 
glesey, and  ihey  said  precisely  what  Mrs.  Higglesey 
feared.  Several  nights  the  outer  door  was  left  un- 
fastened, for  Mr.  Higglesey  said,  "Like  enough 
he'll  come  crawling  back  in  the  night ; "  but  he  came 
not. 

Miss  Jordan  missed  him  sadly.  She  knew  not 
what  to  do.  Should  she  send  this  letter  to  Annette  ?' 
Would  not  his  friends  receive  additional  paiu  to  hear 


260  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

from  him,  and  yet  find  him  lost  ?    In  the  midst  of 
her  perplexity  she  thought  of  Mr.  Tracy. 

"Yes,"  she  decided,  "I'll  tell  Mr.  Tracy  his  his- 
tory. He  will  tell  me  what  course  to  pursue.  I  will 
tell  him  next  Sabbath,  for  I  shall  have  no  other  op- 
portunity." 

Mr.  Tracy  missed  the  bright  face  from  Mr.  Hig- 
glesey's  pew  the  next  Sunday,  and  Amelia  missed 
him.  She  looked  across  from  her  own  seat,  but  no 
dark  eyes  met  her  friendly  glance.  She  did  not  speak 
of  it  until  night ;  then,  as  she  stood  by  her  father  in 
the  evening  hour,  she  said, 

"I  did  not  see  Jothara  to-day." 

Mr.  Tracy  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said,  — 

"  Amelia,  you  know  I  place  great  confidence  in 
you.  I  think  I  can  tell  you  what  I  have  heard  to- 
day." 

Then  he  narrated  the  story  which  Miss  Jordan  had 
told  to  him.  He  expected  to  see  the  girl's  counte- 
nance sadden,  but,  instead  of  that,  a  smile  crossed 
her  lips,  and  her  eyes  gladdened. 

"Then   he  didn't  come  from  B place  at   all, 

father?    I'm  so  glad.    That  place  is  so  low  that  I 
never  would  tell  my  friends  what  part  of  the  city 


THE   CnOOK  STRAIGHTENED.  261 

he  came  from.    I  am  glad  it  is  B street.    You 

know  we  were  there  once.    It  is  a  pretty  place." 

"  But  I  thought,  Amelia,  that  you  would  be  sad  to 
hear  of  his  misconduct." 

"  So  I  am,  father;  but  you  say  bad  boys  led  him 
astray,  and  I  have  heard  you  say  that  many  bad  boys 
have  reformed  and  become  good  men.  I  do  not 
believe  he  is  very  bad." 

Mr.  Tracy  smiled.  "Well,  Amelia,  we  shall  see. 
I  have  always  felt  a  strong  interest  in  him.  Miss 
Jordan  had  prepared  a  letter  to  send  to  his  sister. 
I  have  it  here.  I  shall  add  a  few  words,  and  send 
it  to-morrow.  Then  we  shall  know  more  about  it. 
But  where  he  can  be  now  puzzles  me.  I  imagine 
he  could  not  work  so  hard  as  he  was  required  to, 
and  has  gone  to  seek  his  fortune  in  some  other  place. 
We  must  try  to  find  him." 

"You're  a  good  papa,"  said  the  girl.  "Yon  are 
always  doing  good  for  somebody.  I  know  where 
he's  gone." 

"  Where,  my  child?' 

"Home." 

The  minister  mused  a  moment,  and  then  added, 
"It  is  possible.  I  hope  so.  I  wonder, —yes, —  it 
may  be." 


262 


TSB  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


HOME. 

r|^  LETTER  from  grandmother ! "  shouted  Har- 
ry Wilson,  rushing  into  the  house  one  pleas- 
ant morning.  "  She  wishes  you  and  I  were 
there,  Annette.  The  cherry-trees  are  red  with  ripe 
fruit;  the  blueberries  and  raspberries  are  waiting  to 
be  picked;  the  pond-lilies  are  in  blossom,  and  she 
wants  us." 

"No,"  said  Annette;-  "no,  I  don't  want  to  go.  I 
should  be  so  lonely  without  Jotham.  It  would  seem 
so  desolate." 

"  But  you  know,  Annette,  Jotham  was  always 
making  trouble  there.  If  you  and  I  go,  we'd  have 
a  quiet  time.  But  grandmother  says,  why  can't  we 
shut  up  the  house,  and  all  come,  father  and  mother 
with  us  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  mother,  "I'll  never  shut  this  house 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  263 

till  Jotham  comes,  unless  the  Lord  puts  me  into  a 
narrow  one." 

"He  won't  come,"  said  Harry.  "He's  off  to  sea, 
somewhere,  and  we  might  as  well  go.  Grandmother 
wants  us,  and  we  ought  to  make  grandmother 
happy." 

"That   is   true,"   said   Mrs.  Wilson.     "You   and 
Annette  can  go.    I  think  you  had  better." 
"It  wUl  be  so  lonely,"  said  Annette. 
"  Don't   think    of    that,"   responded   the   mother. 
"  Think  of  grandmother.    Think  how  kind  she  was 
when  you  were  sick." 

"I  know  it,  mother;   I'll  go." 
"  Good !  "  shouted  Harrj'.    "  Let  us  go  to-morrow." 
"We  will  go  day  after  to-morrow.    The  vacation 
is  half  gone,  but  we  can  stay  a  fortpight." 

Harry  marched  off  triumphantly,  and  began  his 
preparations.  Annette  wrote  a  note  to  her  grand- 
mother, and,  on  the  day  appointed,  they  left  their 
home.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson  were  alone.  The  house 
seemed  voiceless,  and  Jotham  came  often  between 
them  as  a  subject  of  conversation.  Mr.  Wilson  was 
much  softer  toward  him  than  at  first.  His  anger 
had    changed    to    anxiety.     He    hadf  witnessed    the 


264  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

mother's  sorrow  over  her  elder  son,  and  he  had 
sorrowed  himself. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  I  was  wrong,"  he  said,  one 
day,  sitting  at  his  lonely  dinner.  "  If  Jothara  should 
ever  come  back,  I  would  try  a  different  course.  I 
would  win  him  by  love.  I  would  spend  more  time 
with  him.  I  would  treat  him  with  courtesy.  I 
would  not  command  him  as  though  he  were  a 
menial,  I  would  speak  to  him  as  to  one  about  to 
enter  the  same  world  of  duties  as  myself.  I  would 
hold  before  him  noble  purposes.  I  would  fill  him 
with  high  aims,  and  by  personal  communion  I  would 
help  him  to  advance." 

These  sentiments  led  Mr.  Wilson  to  intimate  com- 
panionship with  Harry,  and  he  was  surprised  to 
find  how  maturely  a  boy  could  think  and  reason. 
He  began  to  see  that  an  impetuous,  high-spirited 
boy  like  Jotham  could  not  be  suppressed.  His  na- 
ture must  have  vent,  and  ought  to  have  been 
directed  to  some  proper  opening  where  his  ardent 
impulses  could  expand  into  usefulness;  but,  failing 
of  such  guidance,  the  boyish  elasticity  must  rebound 
in  its  own  untrained  way.  Now  that  it  was  too 
late,  Mr.  Wilson  saw  what  he  might  have  done  for 
the  absent  boy.     The    horse  was    stolen,  and   now 


THE   CROOK  fiTRAIGHTENED.  265 

he  was  busily  preparing   a    lock    and   key  for   the 
stable. 

Annette  and  Harry  arrived  safely  at  their  grand- 
father's. The  evening  was  warm  and  they  came  in 
quietly,  for  there  was  no  Jotham  speaking  pom- 
pously, laying  all  things  under  tribute  for  his  own 
benefit. 

"  Dear  children,"  said  grandmother,  caressing  them 
as  she  used  to  do  when  their  flaxen  heads  scarce 
reached  to  her  waist.  Now  the  old  lady  reached 
up,  instead  of  down,  to  kiss  Annette's  cheek,  and 
Harry  was  rapidly  rising  to  the  same  height. 

They  talked  long  of  Jotham  that  night,  and  though 
they  were  very  happy  in  grandfather's  some,  yet, 
as  Annette  had  predicted,  the  brother's  absence 
threw  a  shade  over  their  enjoyments. 

"Where  could  he  be?  Was  he  alive?  Would  he 
ever  come  home?" 

These  were  questions  asked,  but  not  answered. 
Grandmother  was  sleepless  that  night.  She  was 
trying  to  devise  some  means  of  hearing  from  the 
truant.  She  thought  of  advertising;  but  his  father 
had  objected  to  that.  His  pride  had  revolted.  How 
then  could  they  learn  of  him?  Grandfather  said, 
"Let  him  go  till  he  is  ready  to  come  back.    Then 


266  THE  CROOK  STRAIOHTENED. 

he  will  behave  himself."  But  grandmother  longed  to 
hear  from  him,  and  prayed  earnestly  that  the  good 
Lord  would  restore  him  to  his  own  home,  to  truth, 
to  honor,   and  to  peace. 

The  night  wore  away  to  its  depths.  The  air  was 
still,  the  birds  were  slumbering.  A  refreshing  cool- 
ness breezed  over  the  hills  and  came  in  at  the 
windows  left  open  by  the  sleepers.  Grandmother 
thought  she  heard  a  sound  outside.  She  arose  and 
looked  from  the  window,  but  there  was  nothing 
visible.  The  grass  lay  smooth  beneath  the  sky, 
the  stars  glimmered,  and  the  zephyrs  gently  stirred. 

"  How  lovely  are  Thy  works ! "  said  the  old  lady, 
looking  up,  reverently;  and  then  she  retired  again 
to  think  of  Him  who  ruleth  all  things  so  wisely 
and  so  well. 

And,  during  all  this  time,  where  was  Jotham? 

He  went  out  from  Mr.  Higglesey's  that  morning 
with  a  feeling  of  desperation.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  had  hardly  fallen  asleep  when  Mr.  Higgle- 
sey  called  him,  and  he  was  utterly  exhausted.  He 
could  scarcely  walk  the  day  before,  and  how  could 
he  arise  now  at  this  early  hour,  and  work  all  day 
through  the  hours  of  burning,  when  the  hot  sun 
took  away  the  strength    of  even  strong  men?     He 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  267 

'heard  Mr.  Higglesey's  last  "words.  "Don't  come 
back  till  you  have  found  the  cow,"  and  went  out. 

Wearily  he  traversed  the  pasture  and  the  woods, 
searched  the  adjacent  fields,  looked  behind  fences 
and  rocks;  but  there  was  no  cow.  Then  he  sat 
down  by  a  raspberry-bush,  and,  plucking  the  sweet 
fruit,   ate  and  thought. 

"  What  shall  I  do? "  was  his  first  question.  "  Shall 
I  go  back  without  the  cow?  Mr.  Higglesey  will  be 
cross,  and  so  will  Mrs.  Higglesey.  She  used  to  be 
kind,  last  winter;  now  she  frets  at  me  every  day. 
If  I  go  back  I  shall  have  to  work  the  whole  day 
long,  every,  moment,  and  I  can  hardly  stand,  now. 
Besides,  Be  told  me  not  to  come  back  tiU  I  had 
found  the  cow ;  but  I  can't  find  her.  I  didn't  lose  her, 
why  should  I  find  her?" 

When  he  had  picked  all  the  raspberries  within  his 
reach,  he  leaned  languidly  down  upon  a  tuft  of  moss, 
and  was  soon  asleep.  The  breezes  played  across 
his  brow,  and  the  hot  sun  shone  upon  him  as  the 
hours  passed  away,  but  he  did  not  awake.  Nature 
was  asserting  her  rights.  When  he  awoke  the  sun 
was  in  mid-heaven.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  fiat 
up  in  bewilderment;  but  presently  consciousness 
returned,  and  he  recalled  the   events  of  the  morn- 


268  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

ing.  He  was  far  back  in  the  pasture,  in  an  opening 
of  the  woods.  No  human  being  was  near.  Should 
he  go  back  to  the  house  he  called  his  home?  He 
thought  of  Mr.  Tracy  and  Amelia,  of  Miss  Jordan's 
kindness,  and  resolved  to  return;  but  then,  over- 
powering all,  came  the  vision  of  the  hard,  old  man, 
with  the  iron-gray  hair;  the  broad,  brown  woman, 
and  their  anger  at  the  loss  of  the  cow. 

"Why,  they  can't  bear  the  loss  of  a  cent!"  he 
mused.     "They'll  half  kill  me  if  they  lose  a  cow." 

In  this  indecision  he  once  more  arose,  and  saun- 
tered listlessly  through  the  woods.  He  scanned  the 
recesses  in  search  of  the  lost  animal,  but  his  mind 
was  occupied  with  other  subjects.  He  was  thinking 
of  Miss  Jordan's  advice. 

"Oh,  dear!"  he  moaned,  suddenly,  "I've  a  mind 
to  go  home.  I  wonder  if  father  would  be  cross? 
Miss  Jordan  said  he  would  be  like  the  father  of 
the  prodigal  son,  and  I  am  the  prodigal  son  him- 
self. How  I  look !  An  old  straw  hat  with  a  hole  in 
the  brim,  a  colored  shirt,  a  pair  of  blue  overalls, 
no  stockings,  old  shoes!  What  would  father  say  to 
me?  I  ought  to  go  to  the  house  and  get  my  new 
clothes,  but  I  can't.  Mr.  Iligglesey  would  be  angry 
with    me  for  being  gone  so  long,  and  no  cow  yet. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  269 

They  are  cross  enough  by  this  time,  I  warrant.  No, 
I'll  not  go  near  them.  Miss  Jordan  says  I  ought 
to  go  home  and  begin  a  new  life.  She  says  I  can 
live  so  nobly,  and  so  grandly,  that  people  will  for- 
get I  have  ever  done  wrong.  She  says  I  must 
have  a  high  purpose  to  do  right;  that  I  can  become 
an  honor  to  my  parents,  and  an  honor  to  God.  Can 
I  ?  How  late  it  is !  It  must  be  afternoon.  I  won- 
der what  they're  doing  at  the  house?" 

Distracted  by  conflicting  emotions  he  walked  very 
much  as  the  firog  leaped  from  the  well,  —  two  steps 
one  way,  one  step  back  again ;  but  ever  the  two  steps 
were  further  from  Mr.  Higglesey's,  the  one  step 
toward ;  and  therefore  he  slowly  progressed  till  he 
reached  the  borders  of  the  farm.  Here  he  leaped 
the  fence  and  stood  upon  another  man's  land.  From 
that  moment  he  was  free.  First  he  ran,  then  he 
walked,  crossing  other  fances,  till  he  came  to  a 
highway  which  he  was  confident  would  take  Mm 
home. 

People  met  him  in  the  street,  and  thought  he  was 
some  strolling  vagabond.  He  saw  them  stare  at 
him,  and  became  conscious  that,  although  his  ap- 
parel might  answer  for  the  hay-field  of  Mr.  Higgle- 
sey,   on   the   high    road   it   gave   liim  the   appearance 


270  THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

of  being  a  beggar.  Shame  caused  him  to  droop 
his  head.  Besides,  he  was  very  hungry.  Once 
more  he  was  upon  the  road,  penniless.  But  now  it 
was  summer.  He  could  sleep  in  the  fields,  if  needs 
be,  and  to-morrow  he  would  reach  home.  There 
he  would  go  down  on  his  knees  in  penitence,  and 
would  implore  forgiveness. 

Thus  he  walked  on,  but  as  he  went,  and  realized 
that  he  was  drawing  nearer  to  the  ordeal,  that  he 
must  meet  his  father's  sternness  and  answer  the 
thousand  questions  that  would  be  asked  him,  he 
paused  again.  There  was  a  bend  in  the  road  just 
there,  and  a  huge  rock  jutted  out  in  the  corner. 
He  passed  behind  the  rock,  picked  a  few  blueber- 
ries which  were  growing  on  bushes  between  the 
ledges,  crawled  under  the  rocky  shelf,  and  looked 
out  upon  the  setting  sun.  It  was  going  down  in 
splendor,  and  its  last  rays  found  him  in  his  nook. 
The  summer  evening  hum  lulled  his  senses  to  quiet. 

"Everything  is  happy  but  me,"  he  said.  "Why 
is  it?  I  know.  Because  everything  but  me  does 
right.  If  I  had  done  right,  I,  too,  should  be 
happy." 

Then  a  little  voice  whispered,  "  Begin  now. 
Pray." 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  271 

He  started.  He  thouglit  he  heard  his  grandmother's 
voice.  That  was  almost  the  last  word  she  had  ever 
said  to  him,  and  now  his  imagination  heard  it  re- 
peated with  startling  distinctness,  —  "  Pray." 

He  looked  in  the  sky  for  a  moment,  and  out  from 
the  red  sunset  gleams  came  visions.  The  good 
within  him  struggled  with  the  evil.  The  contest 
was  severe,  but  the  discipline  of  the  months  through 
which  he  had  passed  had  strengthened  him,  and  the 
good  triumphed.  He  turned  his  back  to  the  sun, 
faced  the  darkness  of  the  little  cave  behind  him, 
knelt,  and  prayed.  Such  an  outpouring  of  soul  he 
had  never  known  before.  He  continued  thus  a  long 
time,  till  darkness  enshrouded  him ;  then,  laying  his 
head  upon  the  rock  where  he  had  knelt,  he  fell 
asleep. 

He  awoke  in  the  morning  with  new  thoughts. 
He  would  not  go  home,  but  would  go  to  his  grand- 
mother's. Her  voice  had  called  him,  her  face  was 
before  him.  But  it  was  a  long  way,  and  he  had  no 
money.  Then  he  remembered  that  in  "hay -time" 
farmers  were  often  glad  of  extra  help,  and  he  started 
forth.  At  the  first  house  he  made  his  application; 
but  they  wanted  no  boys.  The  second  attempt  also 
failed;  but  at  the  third    he    succeeded,     lie  told  a 


272  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

part  of  his  story,  aad  worked  here  two  days.  He 
had  a  kind  master,  and  an  abundance  of  nourishing 
food.  At  the  end  of  the  second  day  he  received 
his  money,  —  the  first  he  had  looked  upon  since  he 
left  his  home. 

The  next  morning  he  sought  a  depot,  and  was 
borne  to  his  grandmother's  town.  Indecision  again 
came  parleying,  deterring  him  from  his  purpose; 
but  with  a  vigorous  thrust  he  pushed  it  back,  looked 
up  to  God,  and  said,  "I  will  go."  He  lingered  about 
in  the  corners,  waiting  for  the  darkness  to  hide  his 
rags,  then  started  for  the  quiet  farm.  It  was  late 
when  he  reached  the  house.  There  was  no  light; 
but  he  knew  his  grandmother's  window,  and  stealthily 
approached  it,  under  the  shadow  of  the  projecting 
roof. 

This  was  the  noise  which  attracted  the  good 
woman's  attention  as  she  lay  thinking  of  her  lost 
grandson.  He  heard  her  come  to  the  window, 
but  then  his  courage  failed,  and  he  shrank  back.  She 
saw  him  not.  Then  she  returned  to  Iier  bed,  and 
all  was  still  again.  He  waited,  but  heard  no  sound. 
Noiselessly  he  crept  to  the  window  and  looked  in. 
Her  eyes  were  open,  and  she  saw  the  falling  shadow. 


THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  273 

"What  can  it  be?"  she  asked  herself.  "There 
is  certainly  some  one  there." 

Once  more  she  hastened  to  the  window,  but  the 
timid  boy  drew  back  again.  She  was  not  to  be 
foiled,  however,  and,  throwing  up  the  sash,  she 
looked  out.  There  he  stood,  with  the  old  straw 
hat  pushed  down  over  his  face,  and  his  eyes  droop- 
ing.   She  did  not  know  him. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked,  sternly.  "What  are 
you  doing  here?" 

A  faint  sigh  escaped  him,  and  she  knew  the 
sound.  Her  heart  told  her,  and  thrusting  forth 
her  arm,  she  grasped  him. 

"Jotham!"  she  said,  hurriedly.  "Jotham!  Is 
this   you?" 

"  Yes,    grandmother,"    was    the    faint    response. 

She  did  not  scream,  for  she  was  a  woman  of 
strong  common  sense,  but  she  drew  him  suddenly 
to  the  window.  —  pushed  the  old  hat  from  his  fore- 
head, looked  in  his  face  and  said, — 

"  My  Jotham !  I  knew  you  would  come  back. 
And  you  have  come  to  grandmother  first.  You 
have  done  right.  Grandmother  will  befriend  you. 
Come  in,  now.  I  wiU  open  the  door.  Come  in, 
darling.     The    dove    has    come    back   to    its    cote. 


274  THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

Come  in  and  tell  me  where  you  have  been  all  this 
time.  Annette  and  Harry  are  sleeping  upstairs. 
Come  to  the  door,   and  I  will  let  you  in." 

The  sound   of  their  voices  awoke  grandfather. 

"Who's  there?"  he  called,  but  grandmother  could 
not  pause  for  a  reply.  She  hastened  to  the  door, 
and  when  the  old  gentleman  arrived  there  also,  he 
saw  the  boy  clasped  in  his  grandmother's  arms, 
while  tears  of  joy  were  raining  from  her  cheeks. 
Jotham  could  not  speak.  So  much  shame  min- 
gled with  his  happiness,  that  it  was  not  easy  to 
answer  the  many  questions  which  came  in  a  breath. 

There  was  little  sleep  in  the  house  that  night, 
and  never  afterward  could  Jotham  recall  the  scene 
without  thrills  of  gratitude  and  joy.  He  was  at 
home  and  at  rest.  When  he  had  answered  their 
questions,  he  asked  one  in  return, — 

"Will  fat]jer  forgive  me?" 

"Yes,  my  child,"  replied  the  grandmother. 
"  Think  you  he  has  no  longings  to  see  the  son 
from  whom  he  hoped  so  much?" 

Then  they  told  him  of  Annette's  sickness,  and 
of  their  impression  that  he  had  gone  to  sea.  But 
finally,  grandmother    changed  the  subject  suddenly. 


THE    CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  275 

"Are  these  sach  clothes  as  you  wore,  Jotham?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  worked  in  them." 

"You  must  not  be  seen  in  these.  You  will  be 
tired  to-morrow  morning.  Sleep  till  your  grand- 
father can  go  up  town.  He  must  buy  you  a  suit. 
God  be  praised  that  you  are  here !  Henceforth  may 
your  life  be  such  as  shall  fill  your  parents  with 
pride,  and  cause  your  soul  to  grow  in  knowledge 
and  in  the  love  of  God." 

Then  the  boy  told  them  of  Miss  Jordan,  and  con- 
fessed the  manner  in  which  he  had  left,  and  grand- 
mother said,  "  The  Lord  sent  you  such  a  friend. 
To-morrow  I  will  write  to  your  father." 

"  Plead  for  me,  grandmother,"  said  Jotham. 

"I  have  no  need,"  she  answered.  "Your  father 
will  receive  you  with  a  loving  welcome,  and  you 
must  prove  to  him  by  your  conduct  that  you  are 
worthy  his  forgiveness.  You  will  no  longer  have 
to  contend  with  those  boys  who  tempted  you. 
They  brought  disgrace  upon  their  father,  com- 
mitted crimes  which  took  half  his  property  to  keep 
them  from  prison,  and  now  they  are  all  gone  West. 
Father  and  sons  went  off  together,  for  Mr.  Thomp- 
son was  proud,  and  would  not  stay  where  so  much 
disgrace  had  fallen  upon  him." 


276  THE   CROOK  STRAIGHTENED. 

The  next  day  two  letters  came  to  Mr.  Wilson  at 
his  business  office  in  the  city.  One  was  directed  to 
Annette,  but  he  opened  it,  for  he  was  sure  she 
would  not  object.  It  was  from  Miss  Jordan.  The 
other  was  from  his  mother.  With  the  two  letters 
he  went  home,  and  then  there  was  joy  in  that 
house. 

Never  again  was  Mr.  Wilson  ashamed  of  his  son. 
Nevermore  did  Jotham  walk  in  those  crooked  paths 
which  lead  to  sorrow.  The  ordeal  through  which 
he  had  passed  served  as  a  life-time  warning.  The 
prayer  which  he  had  offered  under  that  shelving 
rock  unlocked  his  heart,  and  it  went  upward  with 
a  glow  which  never  again  was  lost.  He  learned  to 
trust  in  God,   and  his  future  path  was  upward. 

He  passed  through  many  trials  on  his  return  to 
his  home;  but  these  only  developed  his  mental 
strength  yet  more.  His  companions  scoffed  him 
at  first;  but  when  they  found  that  he  returned  to 
his  studies  quietly,  going  to  and  fro  with  a  deter- 
mined purpose;  that  week  by  week  and  month  by 
month  he  kept  his  even  course,  gaining  the  confi- 
dence of  his  teacher,  caring  not  for  the  temptations 
around  him,  but  thinking  only  how  he  might  re- 
trieve the  past  and  rise  in  the  future,  —  those   who 


THE  CBOOK  STRAIGHTENED.  277 

had  laughed  began  to  respect  him,  and  to  see  that 
an  earnest  purpose  can  accomplish  aU  things. 

He  did  not  forget  Miss  Jordan,  nor  Mr.  Tracy, 
nor  Amelia;  nor  did  they  forget  him.  A  pleasant 
intimacy  was  established.  Annette  and  Miss  Jordan 
became  loving  Mends,  Mr.  Tracy  came  to  Jotham's 
home,  and  in  after  years  Jotham  went  to  Mr. 
Tracy's  home,  for  Amelia  was  there,  and  she  was 
not  ashamed  to  call  him  her  friend. 

Only  one  thing  troubled  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Higglesey. 
Mr.  Wilson  demanded  pay  for  the  months  during 
which  his  son  had  toiled  for  tiiem ;  and,  when  they 
were  compelled,  they  put  the  money  in  his  hands 
with  many  groans.  So  much  was  taken  from  their 
next  intended  instalment  for  the  bank. 

Jotham  sat  quietly  with  Annette  one  day,  rehears- 
ing some  of  the  scenes  of  his  absence,  when  she 
remarked,  — 

"All  is  atoned  for,  now,  Jotham." 

"Not  all,"  he  answered.  "When  we  have  done 
wrong,  we  cannot  make  all  things  right,  —  can  we  ? " 

"We  can  leave  it  with  God  to  make  all  right," 
she  replied,  meekly. 

"  But,  Annette,"  he  continued,  ','  there  is  one  thing 
that  has  always  worried  me.    I  have  thought  of  it 


278  THE   CROOK  STRAJGHTENET). 

■when  I  have  been  alone,  by  day  and  by  night.  It 
is  of  Joseph,  who  lost  his  place  by  my  means.  He 
seemed  so  honest.  I  did  not  see  him,  you  know ;  but 
the  sound  of  his  pleading  voice  has  always  haunted 
me." 

"  Couldn't  you  find  the  place,  so  we  could  hear 
about  him?"   asked  Annette. 

"No,  Annette,  I  couldn't.  I  didn't  know  where  I 
went.  I  didn't  know  the  name  of  the  town,  and  I 
couldn't  find  him." 

"I  am  sorry,"  Annette  added. 

"I  shall  never  forget  it,"  returned  Jotham.  "If 
I  could  only  find  him,  I  would  ask  father  to  give 
him  all  I  earned  at  Mr.  Higglesey's.  He  ought  to 
have  it." 

He  did  find  him  afterwards,  and  of  this  we  will 
speak  ere  we  close. 

Jotham  had  been  home  a  year  when  he  stepped 
into  a  hardware  store  to  purchase  some  article  for 
his  mother's  use;  and  while  there  he  noticed  a  boy 
of  his  own  age,  and  heard  the  merchant  call  hira 
Joseph.  Something  in  the  tone  of  the  lad's  voice 
seemed  familiar,  and  Jotham  looked  at  him  closely. 
He  could  never  hear  the  name  Joseph  without 
thought  of  that  barn  and  the  stolen  apple. 


THE  CROOK  STRAIGHTENED.  279 

Upon  his  return  he  told  Annette  he  was  sure  he 
had  found  Joseph.  He  was  sure  it  was  the  same 
voice  he  had  so  distinctly  heard  deny  all  knowledge 
of  the  apple.  Inquiries  were  made,  and  Jotham  was 
delighted  to  know  he  was  right;  and  afterwards, 
when  he  had  confessed  to  the  injured  boy,  and  re- 
ceived his  forgiveness,  he  was  happy,  especially  as 
he  learned  that  what  at  first  appeared  an  injury, 
proved  a  blessing,  being  the  means  of  his  finding 
his  present  situation,  which  was  far  superior  to  that 
he  lost. 

Then  Annette  said,  "You  see,  Jotham,  that  by 
walking  in  the  straight  path  of  truth  Joseph  was 
blessed,  and  He  who  sees  all  things  gave  him  his 
reward.  So  you,  leaving  crooked  paths,  and  going 
steadily  in  the  ways  of  virtue,  wiU  find,  ere  long, 
that  you,  too,  will  be  equally  blessed,  for  thus  will 
the  Crook  become  Straightened." 


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Berry.    Price  $L25. 

CROOKED    AND    STRAIGHT;    or,    Jotham 

AND  Anxette  at  Home.    By  the  author  of  "  Celesta."    Price 
$1.25. 

AUNT  ZELPETH'S  BABY.    By  the  author  of 

"  The  Adventures  of  a  German  Toy."    Illustrated.    Price  $1.00. 

GERTY  AND  MAY.    By  the  author  of  «Gran- 

ny's  Story  Box."    With  four  Illustrations.    Price  $1.00 


PUBLIfSHED    BT 

203  Washington  Street, 

Comer  of  Bromfleld,  BOSTON. 


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